JUDITH 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA 

BY 

MARION  HARLAND 


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WILLIAM  WALDORF  ASTOR  .  VALENTINO:  AN  HISTORICAL  ROMANCE 
ARLO  BATES       ........    A  WHEEL  OF  FIRE 

H.  H.  BOYESEN FALCONBERG 

MRS.  BURNETT THAT  LASS  o'  LOWRIE'S 

"         " VAGABONDIA:  A  LOVE  STORY 

G.  W.  CABLE JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

EDITH  CARPENTER YOUR  MONEY  OR  YOUR  LIFE 

EDWARD  EGGLESTON THE  CIRCUIT  RIDER 

THE  LAWTON  GIRL 

FACE  TO  FACE 

.   JUDITH:  A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA 
.  FREE  JOE  AND  OTHER  SKETCHES 

A  FOOL  OF  NATURE 

.  SEVENOAKS:  A  STORY  OF  TO-DAY 
THE  BAY  PATH:  A  TALE  OF  COLONIAL  LIFE 
.  ARTHUR  BONNICASTLE  :  AN  AMERICAN  STORY 

Miss  GILBERT'S  CAREER 

" NICHOLAS  MINTURN 

R  J.  D.  J.  KELLEY A  DESPERATE  CHANCE 

G.  P.  LATHROP AN  ECHO  OF  PASSION 

JULIA  MAGRUDER ACROSS  THE  CHASM 

BRANDER  MATTHEWS THE  LAST  MEETING 

DONALD  G.  MITCHELL DREAM  LIFE 

.       REVERIES  OF  A  BACHELOR 

HOWARD  PYLE  WITHIN  THE  CAPES 

"Q"  (A.  T.  QUILLER-COUCH)        .       .       .        THE  SPLENDID  SPUR 
.       .       THE  DELECTABLE  DUCHY 

R.  L.  STEVENSON THE;  EBB-TIDE 

"  TREASURE  ISLAND 

THE  WRONG  Box 

F.  J.  STIMSON GUERNDALE 

FRANK  R.  STOCKTON       ......      RUDDER  GRANGE 

"  ".....        THE  LADY  OR  THE  TIGER 


HAROLD  FREDERIC 
ROBERT  GRANT  . 
MARION  HARLAND     . 
JOEL  CHANDLER  HARRIS 
JULIAN  HAWTHORNE 
J.  G.  HOLLAND 


COM 


JUDITH 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA 


BY 

MARION   HARLAND 

UTTHOB  or  "ALONE,"  "THE  HIDDEN  PATH,"  "COMMON  SENSE  IN  THB 

HOUSEHOLD,"   "EVE'S  DAUOHTJBB8,"  ETC. 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S   SONS 
1899 


COPYRIGHT,  1883,  BY 
M.  V.  TERHUNE 


MANHATTAN  PRESS 

474  W.   BROADWAY 

NEW  YORK 


JUDITH: 

A  CHRONICLE  OF   OLD  VIRGINIA. 


CHAPTER  I. 

ALL  the  chimneys  of  the  Summerfield  homestead 
were  built  on  the  outside  of  the  house.  In  a  nook 
formed  by  the  meeting  of  the  outer  wall  with  the  parlor 
chimney,  I  sat  on  a  certain  August  afternoon.  The 
turf  was  soft  under  my  feet ;  a  lush  trumpet-creeper 
ran  all  over  the  bricks  and  thrust  tough  fingers  under 
the  clapboards.  I  nestled  among  the  leaves  and 
orange-red  flowers  like  an  exaggerated  June-bug.  My 
frock  was  dark-blue  calico,  sprinkled  with  white  dots  ; 
a  sleeveless,  high-necked  apron  left  my  arms  bare ; 
white  home-knit  stockings  and  stout  shoes  made  by  the 
plantation  shoemaker  covered  my  nether  extremities. 

The  "  New  York  Eeader  "  lay  on  my  lap — a  valuable 
text-book  bound  between  sides  of  coarse  straw  paste- 
board. From  the  blue  paper  covering  these,  yellow 
splinters  protruded  at  broken  corners  and  abraded 
edges.  I  picked  at  one  mechanically  while  reading  of 
a  boy  who  had,  in  defiance  of  his  mother's  warning 
never  to  taste  strange  flowers  or  grasses,  made  a  light 
lunch  upon  a  "  pretty  plant  with  a  small  white  flower." 

The  catastrophe  never  lost  its  charm  for  me,  and  I 

recognized  now  for  the  fortieth  time  the  coming  of  the 

creeping  horror  in  reading  how,  "  when  his  mother  came 

to  him,  she  was  surprised  to  see  that  his  mouth  was 

7 


2061991 


8  JUDITH: 

dirty."  At  this  point,  I  became  aware  that  my  Aunt 
Betsey  was  telling  a  story. 

The  back  porch  ran  the  whole  length  of  the  main 
building  and  one  wing,  and  was  the  family  sitting-room 
all  summer  long.  White  jessamine  and  multiflora  roses 
curtained  it,  drooping  low  and  thick  at  the  end  nearest 
what  I  had  named  u  my  chimney-place." 

My  Aunt  Betsey  was  the  widow  of  a  Presbyterian 
clergyman,  who  had  died  in  less  than  a  year  after  their 
marriage.  The  sad  event  had  occurred  thirty  years 
prior  to  the  date  of  my  story,  but  she  still  wore  mourn- 
ing weeds  in  obedience  to  the  custom  of  the  day  and  the 
inclination  of  such  simple,  loving  souls.  Even  young 
matrons  sported  caps  then.  That  framing  Aunt 
Betsey's  face  had  a  veritable  crown,  standing  up  stiff 
and  high,  and  a  border  of  quilled  "footing."  Her 
brown  hair,  interlined  with  silver,  lay  in  smooth  bands 
above  her  forehead.  Her  eyes  were  gray,  mild  aud 
contemplative,  and,  when  she  conversed,  looked  at  her 
auditor  over  her  spectacles.  She  was  knitting  a  lamb's- 
wool  stocking,  reeling  off  the  sentences  as  evenly  and 
naturally  as  she  drew  the  yarn  from  the  fleecy  ball  in 
her  lap.  She  sat  in  a  splint-bottomed,  straight-backed 
chair,  cushioned  with  gay  chintz.  Her  sister  and  my 
grandmother,  Mrs.  Judith  Bead,  the  widowed  mistress 
of  Summerfield,  sat  in  one  exactly  like  it,  and  knitted  a 
lamb's-wool  sock  for  one  of  her  sons.  Neither  touched 
the  back  of  her  chair  while  she  worked. 

I  could  never  decide  whether  my  grandmother  re- 
minded me  more  of  a  queen  or  of  a  saint.  Her  portrait, 
taken  at  sixty,  is  that  of  a  stately  gentlewoman,  with 
black  eyes,  clear  brunette  complexion  and  high-bred, 
placid  features.  The  deep  black  of  her  gown  is  relieved 
by  a  crimped  lawn  ruffle  running  around  the  neck  and 
down  to  the  belt  in  front.  Her  mob-cap  is  of  sheer 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  9 

muslin,  set  above  dark  hair  and  tied  under  her  chin 
with  black  "  love  "  ribbons.  At  her  throat  is  a  red  rose. 
She  used  to  explain,  in  smiling  apology  for  the  decora- 
tion, that  her  youngest  boy  had  pinned  it  there,  and 
begged  that  it  should  appear  in  the  picture.  I  had  been 
too  strictly  trained  in  such  matters  to  quote  hymns  on 
secular  occasions  ;  therefore,  I  never  said  aloud  the  line 
that  forced  itself  into  my  mind  at  family  worship  and 
during  the  long  sermons  at  Mounts  Tabor  and  Hermon, 
when  I  fell  into  affectionate  studies  of  my  grandmother's 
face: 

"  Majestic  sweetness  sits  enthroned." 

Her  near  ancestors  came  of  noble  Huguenot  stock. 
She  had  their  bright  eyes  and  radiant  smile,  chastened 
by  sanctified  sorrow  into  infinite  gentleness.  I  never 
saw  her  angry,  or  heard  a  fretful  syllable  from  her  lips  ; 
yet  she  had  buried  the  husband  of  her  youth  when  the 
eldest  of  six  children  was  but  fourteen  years  old,  and 
succeeded  to  the  ownership  of  a  fearfully-encumbered 
estate.  Under  her  administration  the  debts  had  been 
paid  and  the  plantation  judiciously  worked  until  her 
eldest  son  was  qualified  to  take  charge  of  it. 

The  porch  steps  were  five  oaken  beams,  eight  inches 
thick,  set  in  an  easy  slope  from  floor  to  ground,  polished 
at  the  edges,  and  hollowed  in  the  middle  by  the  feet  of 
five  generations  of  Beads.  An  arch  of  trellis-work, 
thatched  with  vines,  formed  a  pent-house  over  the 
porch  entrance.  On  the  top  step  sat  two  girls,  my 
Aunt  Maria  and  Miss  Virginia  Dabney,  a  city  visitor. 
Below  them  were  seated  my  Uncle  Archie,  Mr.  Bradley, 
the  Summerfield  tutor,  and  my  youngest  uncle,  Wythe 
Bead,  a  lad  of  fifteen.  Aunt  Betsey  was  the  family 
story-teller — the  licensed  and  honored  receptacle  of 
genealogies  and  traditions.  Her  auditors  were  now,  as 
always,  respectful  and  interested. 


10  JUDITH: 

In  this,  our  day,  when  every  scrap  of  local  and  gen- 
eral intelligence  is  seized  upon  by  professional  scribes, 
held  up  to  the  light,  shaken  thoroughly  and  scraped 
into  lint  for  application  to  the  ever-fevered  sore  of  pub- 
lic curiosity,  the  role  of  the  oral  raconteur  is  so  unim- 
portant that  it  is  going  out  of  fashion. 

"Tell  ye  your  children  of  it,  and  let  your  children 
tell  their  children,  and  their  children  another  genera- 
tion," is  a  process  the  simplicity  of  which  moves  us  to 
smiles.  Yet  what  a  barren  flat  would  be  our  record  of 
happenings  not  yet  fifty  years  old  but  for  the  elderly 
women  who  loved  to  relate  unwritten  reminiscences,  and 
the  young  people  who  liked  to  listen  on  the  door-steps 
and  about  the  hearthstones  of  our  homesteads  when 
newspapers  were  few  and  popular  histories  unknown  ? 

"  I  was  in  Richmond  at  the  time  of  Gabriel's  insurrec- 
tion," the  dear  woman  was  saying  when  I  lifted  my 
head  and  hitched  my  cricket  nearer  to  listen, — "  on  a 
visit  to  Cousin  Sarah  Blair.  There  was  a  party  at  her 
house  that  night,  and  after  supper  we  went  out  into  the 
garden.  I  was  sitting  on  a  bench  in  a  honeysuckle 
arbor  (Cousin  Sarah's  flowers  and  fruit  were  famous) 
with  Jo  Pleasants.  He  married  Lizzy  Blair  the  year 
afterward.  She  (Lizzy)  was  singing  '  Robin  Adair '  in 
the  parlor.  The  windows  were  all  open,  and  we  could 
hear  every  word.  I  never  hear  that  song  to  this  day 
without  a  queer,  creepy  feeling  up  my  back  and  a  faint- 
ness  about  my  heart ;  and  the  smell  of  honeysuckles  on 
a  warm  night  makes  me  positively  sick.  It  was  very 
hot  and  close,  and  while  we  talked  Jo  pointed  out  a 
cloud  rising  in  the  west.  It  was  black — a  sort  of  blue- 
black — and  topped  with  white  as  it  swelled  up  toward 
the  moon.  Jo  said  it  reminded  Mm  of  a  gray-headed 
negro,  and  I  laughed,  although  I  was  always  timid  in  a 
thunder-storm.  The  shape  teas  like  that  of  an  enor- 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  11 

mous  man  pulling  himself  up  to  his  full  height  very 
slowly.  "When  the  big,  broad  shoulders  and  one  arm 
came  in  sight  Jo  called  to  the  others  to  look  at  it.  They 
came,  one  after  another,  until  nearly  all  the  company 
was  gathered  about  the  gate,  and  two  or  three  went  out 
into  the  middle  of  the  street  to  get  a  better  view.  The 
breeze  had  died  down  completely,  and  the  sound  of  the 
falls  in  the  river  was  very  distinct,  as  it  always  is  just 
before  a  storm.  Jo  said  we  might  imagine  that  it  was 
the  roar  of  the  giant  advancing  upon  us. 

"  *  Oh,  don't !'  said  I.  '  I  am  afraid  that  is  a  tempt- 
ing of  Providence.' 

"'I  can  see  his  teeth  and  the  whites  of  his  eyes,' 
called  back  one  of  the  young  men  who  had  gone  into 
the  street. 

"It  did  really  seem  as  if  we  could.  The  mighty 
shape  rose  higher  and  higher,  and  broader,  and  the 
arm  was  raised  over  the  head,  one  forefinger,  yards 
long,  pointing  right  at  Eichmond.  Then  this  finger 
changed  into  something  like  a  pitchfork  or  trident. 

"  '  It 's  the  Old  Harry  himself!'  said  the  same  young 
man,  but  his  laugh  wasn't  very  natural. 

"  Lizzy  had  left  the  piano  and  ran  down  the  steps 
toward  us,  still  singing  : 

"  '  What,  when  the  ball  was  o'er, 
What  made  my  heart  so  sore ?> 

"  When  she  saw  the  cloud  she  seized  my  arm  with  a 
little  cry : 

"  '  What  is  it  ?    Oh,  what  does  it  mean  ?' 

"  She  shook  like  an  aspen  leaf,  and  Jo  and  I  were 
trying  to  quiet  her  when  we  heard  far  off  the  beat  of  a 
horse's  hoofs  dashing  along  at  full  speed. 

" '  There  he  comes,  Miss  Lizzy  !'  said  somebody, 
thinking  to  amuse  her  and  turn  her  attention. 

u  She  gave  one  shriek  and  went  off  into  hysterics. 


12  JUDITH: 

She  was  a  delicate,  nervous"  little  thing,  with  no  consti- 
tution at  all.  She  died  young,  and  no  wonder  !  One 
ran  for  water  and  another  for  hartshorn,  and  half  a 
dozen  rushed  up  with  fans.  In  the  confusion  we  forgot 
the  horse.  I  jumped  as  if  I  had  been  shot,  when  a 
hoarse  voice  said  in  my  ear : 

"  '  You've  heard  it  already,  then  V 

"A  man  had  ridden  up  to  the  garden  fence  and 
leaned  over  toward  us.  He  talked  strangely,  panting 
between  each  syllable  loud  enough  for  us  all  to  hear 
him. 

"' Why, Colonel  Prosser!' cried  Jo  Pleasants,  'what 
is  the  matter  ?' 

"Lizzy  stopped  sobbing,  and  we  stared  at  him, 
frightened  already  by  his  face  and  manner.  He  was 
deadly  pale,  and  his  eyes  glared  wildly. 

"  '  Get  the  ladies  in-doors  directly  !'  he  panted  in  the 
same  odd  way.  '  Some  of  you  fellows  run  to  the  armory. 
I  've  sent  my  body-servant  there  ahead  of  me.  Some 
hurry  down  to  the  Capitol  and  have  the  barracks  bell 
rung.  The  negroes  are  rising  all  over  the  county.  I 
left  hundreds  of  them  on  my  plantation.  They  shot  at 
me  as  I  leaped  the  garden  fence.  I  met  squads  of  them 
— all  armed — on  the  road.  They  are  marching  on  the 
city.  There  is  not  a  minute  to  be  lost. ' 

"  Scared  as  I  was,  I  thought  of  Job's  servants,  with 
their — '  I  alone  am  escaped  to  tell  thee.' 

"While  he  was  speaking  the  cloud  swallowed  up  the 
moon  at  one  gulp,  as  it  seemed,  and  it  grew  so  dark  in 
an  instant  that  we  had  to  grope  our  way  to  the  house. 
Cousin  Sarah's  two  grown  sons,  Walter  and  Hugh, 
offered  to  stay  at  home  to  guard  us,  but  she  wouldn't 
hear  of  it.  Tom  was  fourteen,  John  twelve,  and  she 
said  they  were  able  to  fire  through  a  window  should 
the  house  be  attacked.  There  were  four  guns  on  the 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  13 

premises,  besides  the  sword  and  pistols  Colonel  Blair, 
her  husband,  had  used  in  the  Revolutionary  war.  She 
could  pull  a  trigger  as  well  as  a  man.  Hugh  and  Walter 
must  be  off  to  the  Blues'  muster-room  and  help  defend 
the  town.  Hugh  was  a  lieutenant  in  the  Richmond 
Blues,  and  Walter  a  private.  When  the  men  were  gone 
she  called  us  girls  into  the  parlor  and  shut  the  door. 

"  'Look  here,  Elizabeth  Scott  Blair  !'  says  she — cool 
and  sharp,  like  a  mustard-plaster — '  Go  to  that  piano 
and  begin  to  sing — directly  /' 

"I  could  hardly  believe  my  eyes  when  I  saw  that 
girl  cross  the  room,  sit  down  on  the  music-stool  and 
run  her  fingers  over  the  keys.  I  suppose  that,  her  wits 
being  clean  gone  for  the  time,  her  mother's  will  just 
took  hold  of  her — possessed  her — and  she  could  do 
nothing  but  mind  her.  Anyhow  she  began  to  sing  the 
very  song  at  which  she  had  left  off  playing  not  ten 
minutes  before  : 

"  '  What 's  this  dull  town  to  me? 
Robin 's  not  here  ! 
What 's  here  I  wish  to  see  ? 
Robin  Adair  I' 

"  Cousin  Sarah  was  gone  from  the  room  for  maybe 
three  minutes,  and  returned  with  the  boys  and  the 
guns,  as  Lizzy  finished  the  last  verse. 

"  '  Now — the  Battle  of  Prague  !'  she  ordered — '  and 
as  loud  as  you  can  make  it !' 

"  She  gathered  the  rest  of  us — ten  in  all — into  a  cor- 
ner and  set  us  to  work  cleaning  and  loading  the  guns, 
and  filling  powder-flasks  and  shot-pouches.  I  think 
what  made  me  most  calm  was  her  sending  me  up-stairs 
for  check  aprons  to  keep  our  frocks  clean.  The  sight 
and  feel  of  the  everyday  working-clothes  steadied  me, 
and  helped  me  to  think.  I  saw,  in  coming  down  the 
stairs,  Uncle  Solomon,  the  butler,  and  three  colored 


14  JUDITH: 

women  in  the  dining-room  washing  up  and  putting 
away  the  supper  things,  laughing  and  talking  and  too 
busy  to  notice  me.  Somehow,  that  brought  the  danger 
and  horror  to  me  as  I  had  not  seen  them  before.  These 
were  our  enemies — the  foes  in  our  own  household — the 
people  who  had  carried  us,  when  we  were  babes,  in 
their  arms  and  our  fathers'  and  mothers'  coffins  to  the 
grave !  the  people  almost  as  dear  to  us  as  our  very 
nearest  kinsfolk ! 

"Cousin  Sarah  treated  me  to  a  hard  look  when  she 
took  the  aprons  from  me. 

"  'This  is  no  time  for  fooling,  nor  for  thinking,'  she 
said,  and  gave  me  a  bunch  of  greasy  cotton  with  a  pis- 
tol and  a  thick  wire.  '  Clean  out  the  barrel  with  that, 
and  then  I  '11  load  it.  As  long  as  that  piano  is  going, 
the  servants  can't  hear  the  alarm-bell.  If  they  get  a 
notion  that  there  's  a  fire  down  town  the  fools  will  be 
off  to  see  it,  and  leave  their  work  until  they  come  back. 
I  want  to  get  them  out  the  house  as  soon  as  possible. 
Besides,  they  mustn't  suspect  that  we  have  heard  any- 
thing unusual.  If  there  is  a  conspiracy  between  the 
country  andthe  town  negroes,  those  here  will  wait  for 
the  others  to  come,  unless  they  find  out  that  the  plot  is 
known.  An  hour's  time  is  worth  a  great  deal  to  us 
just  now.' 

"  The  Battle  of  Prague  must  have  drowned  the  first 
thunder  rolls,  for  we  heard  nothing  of  the  storm  until  a 
tremendous  clap  burst  right  overhead,  and  the  room 
was  filled  with  blue  fire.  The  girls  screamed,  and  poor 
Lizzy  dropped  to  the  floor  in  a  dead  faint.  We  thought 
at  first  that  she  was  struck.  If  she  had  been  I  doubt  if 
her  mother  would  have  acted  differently  from  what  she 
did.  She  helped  lay  Lizzy  on  one  sofa,  huddled  all  the 
firearms,  the  sword  and  ammunition  under  another,  and 
poked  the  check  aprons  after  them,  before  she  called 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  15 

Marthy,  Lizzy's  maid,  to  bring  water  and  the  camphor- 
bottle.  Marthy  had  not  known  till  then  that  the  gen- 
tlemen had  gone.  Maybe  I  did  her  injustice,  being 
excited,  but  I  thought  there  was  something  queer  in 
her  smile  when  she  looked  around  as  Lizzy  came  to. 

"'Law,  young  ladies!'  she  said  pertly,  'is  Miss 
'Lizabeth  done  scare  all  the  beaux  away  by  faintin'  ?' 

"Another  crash  of  thunder  saved  us  the  trouble  of  a 
reply. 

"  '  The  young  ladies  will  stay  here  until  the  shower 
is  over,'  said  Cousin  Sarah.  '  The  gentlemen  had  no 
umbrellas.  Hurry,  all  of  you,  to  shut  up  the  house,  or 
you  won't  be  able  to  get  to  the  kitchen  for  the  rain. ' 

"  In  ten  minutes  we  had  the  house  to  ourselves.  As 
Marthy  ran  across  the  yard  to  her  room  we  heard  her 
scream  at  the  blaze  that  wrapped  heavens  and  earth  in 
a  sheet  of  flame.  Cousin  Sarah  made  Patsey  Dabney — 
your  father's  oldest  sister,  Virginia — and  me  help  her 
fasten  doors  and  windows.  We  shut  and  bolted  the 
solid  blinds  on  the  first  floor,  put  bars  across  front  and 
back  doors,  then  followed  our  commanding  officer  up  to 
Lizzy's  room.  It  was  a  big,  square  one,  with  windows 
on  three  sides.  The  shutters  of  those  at  the  back  were 
closed.  We  brought  in  beds,  bolsters  and  pillows  to 
put  up  against  the  others  that  faced  the  streets  in  front 
and  at  the  end  of  the  house.  We  were  to  block  these 
up  at  the  word  of  command,  leaving  loop-holes  for  firing. 
Tom  was  put  in  charge  of  one  gun,  John  of  another ; 
Deborah  Chapman  volunteered  for  a  third,  Janey  Mosby 
for  a  fourth.  Cousin  Sarah  had  on  a  great,  big  pocket 
and  her  pistols  in  it.  Elvira  Burton  took  the  sword, 
and  we  divided  up  a  box  of  table-knives  among  us. 

'  'All  this  time  the  thunder  was  splitting  and  rolling  and 
rattling  above  the  house,  and  the  white  and  blue  streams 
of  lightning  almost  blinding  us.  When  everything  was 


18  JUDITH: 

done  that  we  could  think  of,  Cousin  Sarah  made  us  sit 
down  on  the  feather-beds  in  the  middle  of  the  floor. 
That  was  the  hardest  thing  of  all ! — the  sitting  there, 
waiting  and  listening  and  dreading,  hearing  nothing 
from  hour  to  hour  but  the  thunder-claps,  and,  when 
these  were  not  so  loud  (they  never  ceased !),  the  rain 
pouring  down  in  floods — waiting  to  be  killed  by  bullet 
or  knife,  or  maybe  burned  alive  in  the  locked-up  house, 
for  we  knew  that  Cousin  Sarah  would  never  turn  a  key 
or  bolt  to  let  us  out  if  the  roof  were  fired  above  our 
heads.  She  meant  resistance  unto  death  from  the  mo- 
ment she  set  Lizzy  down  to  the  piano.  We  put  out  the 
lights,  not  to  call  attention  to  the  building;  but  we 
were  not  in  the  dark  for  a  second.  About  twelve 
o'clock  we  began  to  whisper  among  ourselves  that  they 
must  be  here  very  soon  now.  The  storm  was  passing, 
the  thunder  fainter,  and  the  lightning  less  bright.  We 
caught  by  snatches,  between  the  heavy  dashes  of  rain 
on  the  roof  and  windows,  the  fast,  irregular  ringing  of 
the  alarm-bells — told  one  another  this  must  mean  that 
the  town  was  attacked  at  some  point. 

"  Cousin  Sarah  got  up  and  went  out  of  the  room. 
Presently  she  called  to  us  from  the  garret : 
"  4  Come  up  here,  girls  1 — very  quietly !' 
"  She  was  in  the  cupola.  From  there  we  had  a  view 
of  the  armory.  The  windows  were  all  flashing  with 
light,  and  torches  were  moving  in  the  yard  and  streets 
surrounding  it.  There  were  other  specks  of  light  far 
down  town,  and  here  and  there  lighted  windows  nearer 
to  us.  But  overhead  and  close  about  us  was  the  very 
blackness  of  darkness  that  might  be  felt — an  awful  sort 
of  smothering  gloom,  as  if  we  were  in  the  heart  of  the 
cloud.  For  the  first  time  in  two  hours,  I  remembered 
the  strange  shape  we  had  seen  in  the  heavens,  and  said 
to  myself  that  it  was  certainly  a  sign  and  a  warning  of 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  17 

what  was  to  befall  us.  While  we  stood  there  the  black- 
ness opened  suddenly,  and  a  cataract  of  lightning — I 
can't  call  it  anything  else — fell  right  down  upon  us.  I 
saw  the  face  of  every  person  in  the  cupola  as  plainly  as 
I  do  yours  now.  The  thunder  burst  out  with  it,  crash- 
ing and  booming  again  and  again,  as  if  it  would  never 
stop. 

"  Cousin  Sarah  had  to  raise  her  voice  to  be  heard : 

"  '  We  must  go  down — another  cloud  is  rising  !' 

"  She  spoke  again,  as  we  huddled  together,  shivering 
and  shaking,  on  the  pile  of  feather-beds  : 

"'We  are  in  God's  hands.  Let  us  fall  into  them 
rather  than  into  the  hands  of  bloody  and  deceitful  men !' 

"  By-and-by  we  heard  her  say : 

"  '  The  voice  of  the  Lord  divideth  the  flames  of  fire. 
Therefore  will  we  not  fear  though  the  earth  be  re- 
moved. ' 

"But  for  her  we  would  have  gone  stark  mad  that 
night.  Anything  like  the  horribleness  of  that  second 
storm  I  hope  never  to  see  again.  It  was  like  the  ter- 
rors of  the  Judgment  day.  The  heavens  were  rolled 
together  like  a  scroll ;  the  earth  seemed  to  be  on  fire. 
The  thunder  was  never  quite  still  for  five  hours.  By  the 
time  it  ceased  to  mutter  in  the  east  it  roared  out  again 
in  the  west,  and  the  lightnings  chased  and  overtook 
one  another  in  mid-heaven.  The  rain  was  a  deluge. 

"'This  will  make  a  "fresh"  in  the  river,' Cousin 
Sarah  said  once. 

"  'What  difference  will  that  make  to  us?'  answered 
one  of  the  girls — Abigail  Burton  by  name. 

"  Even  then  Cousin  Sarah  didn't  let  the  speech  pass. 

"  '  Don't  let  me  hear  any  more  such  talk  as  that !' 
she  said,  as  quick  as  a  flash.  '  Is  the  Lord's  arm  short- 
ened that  it  cannot  save  ?' 

"  Poor  little  John  had  dropped  asleep,  "his  head  on  his 


JUDITH: 

mother's  lap.  By  a  gleam  of  lightning  I  saw  her,  aftei 
a  while,  stoop  over  him  and  kiss  him  two  or  three  times 
on  his  mouth.  Then  she  eased  his  head  down  on  the 
pillows  and  walked  to  a  window.  We  knew  in  a  second 
that  she  had  heard  something.  One  hy  one  we  stole 
after  her  to  the  front  windows  and  looked  out,  those 
who  were  nearest  the  wall  kneeling  down,  that  the 
others  might  see  over  their  heads.  We  all  heard  it, 
though  nobody  spoke  or  moved — when  the  thunder- 
peals were  furthest  off— the  '  splash  !  splash  !'  of  men's 
and  horses'  feet  and  the  crowding  together  of  many 
people.  '  Hundreds  of  them  !'  I  fancied  I  could  hear 
Colonel  Prosser  repeat  the  words.  And  we  a  handful 
of  weak  women  and  two  little  boys  !  The  alarm-bells 
had  stopped  ringing  long  ago.  Perhaps  the  white 
people  had  given  up  all  idea  of  saving  the  city.  How 
was  it  possible  to  do  it  when  in  every  house  there  were 
traitors,  and  a  countless  horde  of  murderers  marching 
upon  us  in  the  dead  of  night  ? 

"Cousin  Sarah's  voice  went  through  and  through 
me,  although  she  spoke  low : 

"  '  They  are  going  out  of  town — not  coming  in  !' 

"We  all  seemed  to  think  together  that  night.  In 
comparing  notes  afterward  every  girl  said  her  first 
thought  was  at  that  instant  that  the  town  negroes  had 
seized  the  armory,  killed  the  guard,  armed  themselves 
and  were  now  on  their  way  to  meet  Gabriel's  army.  A 
downpour  of  lightning  lit  up  everything  outside — the 
flooded  street,  the  still  houses  and  trees  and  fences,  and 
right  in  front  of  us,  a  mounted  company  of  white  men  ! 
Military  cloaks  and  blankets  protected  their  arms  from 
the  rain,  but  as  they  broke  into  a  slow  trot  we  heard 
the  clink  of  spurs  and  sabres. 

"  4  The  Blues  I'  said  Cousin  Sarah  in  a  shrill,  strangled 
whisper.  '  I  see  my  boys  !' 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  19 

"  "We  leaned  far  out  of  the  windows  to  shake  our  hand- 
kerchiefs to  them.  Another  flash  showed  us  twenty 
faces  turned  up  toward  us,  but  not  a  sound  was  uttered 
by  them  or  by  us. 

"  *  Have  they  left  anybody  to  guard  the  town  ?'  whis- 
pered Lizzy,  as  the  last  of  the  long  line  disappeared. 

"  '•The  Lord  of  Hosts  /'  said  Cousin  Sarah,  in  a  clear, 
solemn  voice. 

"  She  stood  up  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  raised  both 
hands  like  she  was  in  church. 

"  '  Let  us  pray  !'  said  she  ;  and  we  all  fell  on  our 
knees  around  her.  What  a  prayer  she  made  for  the 
brave  men  who  had  gone  out  to  meet  the  enemy,  and 
for  ourselves,  our  families,  our  homes,  our  churches,  our 
beloved  Richmond  !  At  last  she  prayed  for  the  poor, 
deluded  creatures  who  had  followed  the  lead  of  wicked 
men,  and  been  taught  to  thirst  for  the  blood  of  their 
best  friends. 

"  At  that  she  gave  way  for  the  first  time,  and  we  all 
burst  out  crying.  For  some  minutes  nothing  was  heard 
but  weeping  and  sobbing.  Then  Cousin  Sarah  got  back 
voice  enough  to  say  : 

"  '  Father,  forgive  them !  they  know  not  what  they 
do!' 

"  We  said,  '  Amen !  Amen  !'  We  could  not  be  fierce 
and  angry  any  longer,  and  our  hearts  were  stayed  by 
hope  as  well  as  by  prayer ;  but  none  of  us,  except  the 
boys,  slept  a  wink  that  night.  Seven  distinct  thunder- 
clouds arose  one  after  another  between  ten  o'clock  and 
four,  and  were  emptied  upon  the  earth ;  but  the  awful 
figure  we  had  seen  flying  toward  us  was  the  angel  of  de- 
liverance, not  of  destruction. 

"  The  rising  was  on  Colonel  Prosser's  plantation, 
Brook  Hill,  about  six  miles  from  Richmond.  His  family 
was  away  from  home,  and  he  was  known  to  be  an  easy 


20  JUDITH: 

master,  who  wouldn't  be  apt  to  notice  unusual  move- 
ments about  the  place.  The  plan  was  to  kill  him  when 
they  were  all  assembled,  ransack  his  house  for  weapons 
and  ammunition  (he  was  a  colonel  of  militia  in  Henrico 
County),  and  to  take  his  horses.  His  body-servant 
slipped  out  of  the  tobacco-barn  where  they  were  talk- 
ing it  over,  ran  to  the  stable  and  saddled  two  of  the 
best  hunters.  Then  he  went  to  his  master's  room,  told 
him  what  was  going  on,  and  to  ride  for  his  life.  The 
two  were  hardly  mounted  when  some  of  the  gang  caught 
sight  of  them  and  gave  the  alarm.  Master  and  man 
dashed  straight  across  the  yard  and  put  their  horses  at 
the  garden  fence.  Five  or  six  shots  were  fired  at  them 
before  they  cleared  the  two  fences  between  them  and  the 
public  road.  Colonel  Prosser  could  never  allude  to  his 
escape  without  shuddering.  He  said  the  negroes  rushed 
at  him  from  all  directions,  and  that  their  yells  were  like 
a  pack  of  wolves. 

"Michael!"  in  the  same  soft,  even  tones  that  had 
borne  the  story  thus  far,  "  bring  that  water  this  way, 
won't  you  ?" 

A  bare-footed  negro  boy,  dressed  in  yellow  homespun, 
had  brought  a  cedar- wood  pail,  bound  with  bright  brass 
hoops,  up  the  steps  at  the  far  end  of  the  porch,  and  was 
in  the  act  of  setting  it  on  a  triangular  shelf  supported 
by  the  railings.  He  swung  it  back  to  his  head  from 
which  he  had  just  let  it  down,  and  obeyed  the  order  he 
had  received.  Uncle  Archie  arose  from  the  steps  as  the 
lad  dexterously  lowered  his  burden,  dipped  the  white 
gourd  bobbing  about  on  the  surface,  into  the  water,  and 
handed  it  to  his  aunt,  his  hand  held  beneath  to  catch 
the  drops  shed  by  the  glistening  sides. 

"  Aunt  Betsey  always  grows  thirsty  at  the  most  inter- 
esting part  of  her  story,"  laughed  Aunt  Maria.  "I 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  21 

don't  mind  it  so  much  this  time,  because  I  know  the 
rest.  But  it  is  cruel  to  those  of  you  who  don't." 

"  Like  To  be  continued '  in  a  magazine  serial,"  replied 
Mr.  Bradley. 

His  speech  was  very  unlike  that  of  the  others,  more 
precise  in  articulation  and  unrhythmical  in  inflection. 
He  pronounced  i  like  eye  in  such  words  as  "like  "  and 
"  right,"  and  sometimes  u  like  oo. 

"Mrs.  Waddell  plays  with  us  as  a  cat  with  a  mouse, 
or  an  angler  with  a  fish,"  he  continued.  "  It  is  a  profes- 
sional trick,  meant  to  whet  our  appetites  for  the  rest 
A  successful  one  in  this  case." 

"Michael !" — Grandma  checked  him  by  saying  as  he 
passed  her — "  don't  put  a  drinking-water  pail  on  your 
head.  It  is  not  considered  proper.  You  will  learn  all 
these  little  things  after  awhile.  He  has  only  been  up 
from  the  Quarter  for  a  few  days,"  she  mentioned,  apolo- 
getic of  the  mistake  to  Virginia  Dabney,  when  the  boy 
was  out  of  hearing.  "  He  comes  of  excellent  parents, 
and  will  do  well  as  a  house-servant  under  Jerry's  train- 
ing. He  is  Eose's  child — one  of  the  twins,  you  know." 

"Isn't  the  name  of  the  other  Gabriel?"  asked  the 
young  lady,  with  pretty  abruptness. 

Uncle  Archie  smiled  down  at  her  from  his  stand 
against  a  porch  pillar. 

"You  remember  that,  do  you?  Yes;  the  mother 
called  them,  of  her  own  accord,  after  the  archangels — 
Gabriel  and  Michael.  You  don't  admire  her  taste,  it 
would  seem." 

"  I  have  nothing  against  Michael.  I  don't  remember 
his  brother.  But  I  shall  hate  him  at  sight,  on  account 
of  his  name.  If  I  were  Mrs.  Head  he  should  change 
It,  or  leave  the  plantation." 


33  JUDITH: 


CHAPTER  H. 

"THE  insurgents  were  howling  like  wolves,  Mrs, 
Waddell,"  resumed  the  tutor  in  playful  persistence. 
"  It  is  unkind  to  leave  us  with  the  echo  in  our  eara 
while  you  set  the  heel  of  that  stocking." 

Aunt  Betsey  was  counting  stitches,  but  desisted  at 
the  word  "  unkind,"  as  the  artful  speaker  had  foreseen. 

"Gabriel  was  an  unusually  intelligent  negro.  His 
master  had  petted  him  from  his  childhood  and  his  mis- 
tress taught  him  to  read.  He  showed  what  a  dangerous 
thing  a  little  learning  is  by  plotting  a  general  massacre 
of  the  white  people,  sparing  only  some  young  women, 
who  were  to  be  the  maids  of  the  leaders'  colored  wives, 
and  half  a  dozen  who  were  to  marry  the  principal  men. 
They  meant  to  fire  the  city  in  three  places  at  once  ;  then 
a  trumpet,  'blown  long  and  loud,'  would  let  the  con- 
spirators know  that  the  hour  had  come,  and  be  the 
signal  of  attack  upon  the  armory.  The  small  company 
of  soldiers  there  would  be  killed,  the  arms  secured,  and 
the  building  held  as  a  fort  by  a  certain  number,  while 
the  rest  went  from  house  to  house,  slaughtering  young 
and  old.  A  chosen  band  was  to  make  sure  of  the  ladies 
already  selected,  and  guard  them  to  the  armory.  '  Every- 
thing else  that  wears  a  white  skin  must  die,'  was  one  of 
Gabriel's  general  orders.  A  paper  containing  the  list 
was  found  in  his  pocket,  and  a  rough  sketch  of  the 
government  he  hoped  to  establish.  He  was  known 
among  his  followers  as  '  General  Gabriel. '  When  the 
white  folks  were  all  dead,  he  was  to  be  crowned  'King 
of  Virginia. '  Richmond  was  chosen  as  his  capital,  and 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  23 

Mrs.  Marcia  Kandolph,  a  beautiful  widow,  for  his 
queen." 

"  You  may  have  seen  her  cookery-book,  '  The  Vir- 
ginia Housewife,'  Mr.  Bradley,"  interpolated  Grand- 
ma. "Your  mother  uses  it  I  know,  Virginia,  my 
dear.  It  is  a  valuable  work,  although  rather  expensive 
for  people  of  moderate  means." 

"  The  next  in  office  were  to  be  presidents.  Then  came 
princes  and  governors  and  counsellors,"  went  on  the 
narrator. 

"  Borrowed  wholesale  from  the  Book  of  Daniel,"  com- 
mented Mr.  Bradley.  "I  wonder  at  his  copying  a 
heathen  form  of  government." 

"That  was  where  he  got  it  all.  Each  of  these  offi- 
cers, as  I  have  said,  was  to  have  a  white  wife  to  add 
dignity  to  his  position.  The  plot  had  been  working  for 
a  year.  It  will  never  be  known  in  this  world  how  many 
knew  of  it  or  would  have  joined  in  the  bloody  work. 
There  were  a  thousand  at  Gabriel's  back  when  he 
halted  his  horse  on  the  bank  of  a  branch  of  the  Chicka- 
hominy  River,  that  lay  between  them  and  the  city.  It 
was  a  shallow  creek  they  could  have  crossed  on  foot  at 
sundown  that  day  ;  but  the  heavy  rain  had  swelled  it 
into  a  deep,  rushing  stream  they  dared  not  try  to  ford. 
Gabriel  called  a  council  of  war  there  in  the  storm. 
They  knew,  of  course,  that  Colonel  Prosser  and  his  man 
had  escaped,  but  they  were  not  sure  that  they  had  gone 
to  Richmond.  While  they  argued  and  disputed  among 
themselves,  a  negro  boy,  about  twenty  years  old,  named 
Pharaoh,  belonging  to  Mr.  William  Mosby,  stole  down 
the  creek  in  the  darkness,  plunged  in,  and  swam  to  the 
other  side.  That  shows  what  might  have  been  done  by 
many  had  not  the  Lord,  in  mercy  to  us,  withheld  them 
from  the  attempt.  Pharaoh  started  to  Richmond,  and 
met  the  white  troops  about  a  mile  outside  of  the  city, 


24  JUDITH: 

From  him  they  had  full  information  as  to  the  state  of 
affairs,  and  marched  directly  to  the  creek.  The  negroes 
were  still  on  the  other  side  when  the  troops  got  to  the 
bank  nearest  town.  Five  or  six  of  the  bravest,  urged 
by  Gabriel  and  Jack  Bowler,  his  right-hand  man,  had 
tried  to  swim  over,  and  been  drowned.  The  stream 
was  boiling  like  a  pot  and  rising  every  minute,  and  they 
were  sucked  right  under  in  the  sight  of  the  rest.  After 
that  nobody  would  risk  the  crossing. 

"  Gabriel  was  preaching  to  them  when  the  troops  ar- 
rived. The  constant  glare  of  lightning  lit  up  both  par- 
ties. The  white  men  had  heard  Gabriel  before  they 
saw  him  standing  on  the  edge  of  the  water,  and  close 
by  him  Jack  Bowler,  who  was  a  perfect  giant,  almost 
six  and  a  half  feet  high,  and  as  strong  as  four  or  five 
ordinary  men.  He  had  persuaded  the  negroes  that  the 
Lord  had  made  him  on  purpose  to  deliver  them,  as  He 
did  Samson  to  deliver  the  Israelites.  His  hair  was  long 
and  thick,  and  had  never  been  cut.  He  wore  it  gener- 
ally in  a  cue,  like  a  gentleman's,  but  this  night  he 
let  it  hang  loose  on  his  shoulders,  to  remind  his  men  of 
Samson's  hair,  '  wherein  his  great  strength  lay. '  Both 
of  these  men  were  under  thirty,  and  could  read  and 
write.  They  were  armed  to  the  teeth,  and  Gabriel  had 
put  on  Colonel  Prosser's  regimental  suit.  Around  and 
behind  them  was  a  crowd  that  looked  like  tens  of  thou- 
sands, heaving  and  murmuring.  Walter  Blair  said  the 
sound  reminded  him  of  the  pushing  and  grunting  of  a 
herd  of  hogs.  It  bristled  with  all  sorts  of  weapons. 
Some  had  guns,  some  axes,  some  hatchets,  and  many 
side-blades  (scythes)  fastened  to  the  ends  of  poles.  The 
lightning  flashed  on  hundreds  of  these,  ground  sharp 
and  rubbed  bright. 

"The  white  men  fired  directly  into  the  body  of  the 
crowd,  for  the  creek  was  not,  even  in  the  freshet,  twenty 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  25 

yards  wide.  A  few  shots  were  fired  back,  but  most  of 
the  poor,  foolish  things  had  never  thought  of  keeping 
guns  and  powder  dry.  The  leaders  hallooed  to  them  to 
'  stand  still  and  see  the  salvation  of  the  Lord, '  but  it 
was  of  no  use.  They  scattered  in  all  directions,  like 
scared  sheep." 

"  They  are  a  race  of  born  cowards,"  observed  Uncle 
Archie,  in  careless  contempt.  "  One  white  man  armed 
with  a  cornstalk  could  put  a  battalion  of  them  to  flight. 
Their  attempts  at  insurrection  can  never  be  anything 
but  ridiculous  failures.  It  is  like  a  boy  bullying  and 
bragging  with  a  pea  pop-gun." 

"Pop-gun  peas  have  put  out  grown  folks'  eyes  be- 
fore now,"  returned  Grandma  seriously.  "If  it  had  not 
been  the  Lord  who  was  on  our  side  that  night,  blood 
would  have  flowed  like  a  river.  In  many  homes  in 
Richmond  there  was  no  hope  of  escape  from  violent 
death.  My  dear  friend,  Mrs.  Jean  Wood,  wife  of  Gov- 
ernor Wood,  was  then  living  at  their  place,  Chelsea,  a 
little  way  out  of  town.  There  was  no  member  of  the 
white  family  at  home  but  herself  when  a  neighbor 
stopped  at  her  door  in  the  storm  to  tell  her  what  was 
going  on,  and  to  invite  her  to  go  to  his  house.  She 
would  not  stir  from  home. 

" '  We  are  all  marked  for  certain  death  before  the 
rising  of  another  sun,'  she  said  calmly.  'I  should  only 
add  to  your  responsibility  and  distress  the  pain  of  see- 
ing me  die.' 

"  Neither  would  she  lock  her  doors. 

"'Resistance  will  make  them  the  more  cruel,' she 
said.  '  All  that  I  shall  ask  of  my  murderers  will  be  to 
put  me  to  no  useless  suffering,  but  to  despatch  me 
quickly  and  decently.' 

"  Then  she  thanked  him  for  his  kindness  in  giving  her 


26  JUDITH: 

timely  notice  of  her  departure,  and  hoped  she  should  see 
him  in  heaven  very  soon. 

"'It  will  not  make  much  difference  to  us  then 
whether  we  have  got  there  by  a  rough  or  a  smooth  road,' 
was  the  last  thing  she  said,  as  he  went  down  the  front 
steps.  'Good  night.  We  won't  have  to  say  thai  up 
there  !' 

"  Everybody  agreed  afterward  that  her  expectations 
were  most  reasonable.  The  police  force  was  weak  and 
inefficient,  and  the  negroes  who  were  marching  upon  the 
town  outnumbered  the  white  troops  at  least  five  to  one, 
without  taking  into  account  those  in  the  city — what 
Betsey  calls  the  'foes  in  the  household.'  Mrs.  Wood 
acted  wisely  in  preparing  to  die  before  morning.  She 
told  me  afterward  how  wonderfully  she  was  supported. 
She  set  her  room  in  perfect  order,  bathed  from  head  to 
foot,  and  shrouded  herself  in  a  new  night-gown  that  had 
never  been  worn.  Then  she  read  the  fourteenth  chap- 
ter of  St.  John  and  the  twenty-first  and  twenty-second 
of  Revelations,  said  her  prayers,  committing  her  soul 
to  her  Saviour,  and  asking  God  to  forgive  and  have 
mercy  upon  them  who  sought  her  life,  and  lay  down 
upon  the  outside  of  her  bed,  her  husband's  miniature 
in  her  hand,  to  wait  the  coming  of  the  rebels." 

"  That  sounds  like  a  chapter  from  the  '  Book  of  Mar- 
tyrs, ' ' '  cried  young  Bradley  animatedly.  ' '  I  never  heard 
anything  finer.  Your  friend  was  a  heroine,  Mrs.  Eead. " 

"She  was  a  Christian,"  answered  Grandma  simply. 
"  That  was  the  way  Dr.  Rice  summed  up  her  attrac- 
tions and  merits  in  the  beautiful  obituary  he  wrote  of 
her.  After  speaking  of  her  brilliant  conversation  and 
personal  charms — which,  he  says,  made  young  people 
'  prefer  her  society  to  their  gay  novels' — her  natural  af- 
fection, her  patriotism,  her  conduct  as  a  friend,  a  neigh- 
bor and  a  philanthropist,  he  concludes  with :  '  To  crown 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  27 

the  whole,  Mrs.  Wood  was  a  Christian.  Not  by  tradi- 
tionary faith,  not  with  a  cold  assent  of  the  understand- 
ing, but  with  the  whole  heart.' 

"  She  told  me,  too,  that  she  never  in  after-life  knew  a 
single  fear  of  death.  God  gave  her  gracious  assurance 
in  the  lonely  watches  of  that  night  that  as  her  day  so 
should  her  strength  be.  When  the  morning  dawned, 
and  with  it  the  news  of  the  dispersion  of  the  insurgents, 
it  cost  her  an  effort  to  come  back  to  earth  and  thoughts 
of  an  earthly  future,  so  sweet  had  been  her  meditations, 
so  sure  was  her  hope  of  her  heavenly  home.  As  she 
expressed  it :  'It  was  being  turned  back  when  I  had  my 
hand  on  the  door-knob.'  Her  first  act  after  dressing 
herself  for  the  day  and  putting  away  her  shroud  was  to 
call  in  the  servants  just  as  usual  for  family  prayers. 
Her  maid  used  to  tell  how  her  mistress  noticed  when 
breakfast  was  ready  that  the  table-cloth  was  slightly 
crooked,  and  had  the  china  taken  off  that  it  might  be 
straightened  before  she  sat  down.  She  made  no  refer- 
ence whatever  to  what  had  passed;  behaved  to  her 
servants  exactly  as  she  had  always  done,  making  them 
understand  that  she  bore  them  no  grudge  for  the  faults 
of  others  of  their  color. 

"  The  women  of  that  day  certainly  had  brave  hearts," 
said  Aunt  Betsey,  serenely  forgetful  of  the  fact  that  she 
was  one  of  the  commended  class.  "  We  girls  were  just 
worn  out  by  daybreak.  We  were  cramped  with  sitting 
in  a  bunch  on  the  floor,  faint  with  the  weary  waiting 
and  constant  dreading.  Lizzy  had  to  go  regularly  to 
bed  when  the  strain  was  over,  and  stay  there  for  a 
week.  We  had  good  news  by  the  time  we  could  see 
across  the  street.  The  rain  and  thunder  had  passed  by, 
but  the  clouds  hung  low,  almost  touching  the  tops  of 
the  chimneys.  The  air  was  close  and  '  muggy. '  We 
threw  open  one  window  after  another  and  listened.  It 


23  JUDITH: 

was  the  stillest  morning  I  ever  knew.  The  flowers  were 
beaten  flat  to  the  ground,  the  bushes  were  dripping 
wet.  I  can  seem  to  smell  now  the  bruised  honeysuckles 
and  lilies  that  strewed  the  grass.  Presently  we  heard 
the  long,  steady  gallop  of  a  horse  through  the  mud. 
Then  a  dark  figure  reined  up  at  the  gate,  and  Jo  Plea- 
sants'  voice  called  : 

'"All's  well,  Mrs.  Blair!' 

"We  rushed  down  stairs  in  a  body,  tore  back  bolts 
and  bars,  and  ran  out  to  him.  He  was  coated  with 
mud  up  to  the  eyes.  You  couldn't  have  told  the  color 
of  his  horse.  He  twisted  himself  sideways  in  his  sad- 
dle, his  hand  on  the  horse's  back,  in  the  way  men  have 
when  they  want  to  seem  particularly  at  their  ease,  and 
says  he  : 

'"I  am  sorry  we  had  to  leave  you  so  unceremoniously 
last  night,  ladies,  but  the  country  gentlemen  we  went 
to  call  upon  could  not  be  put  off.  Hugh  and  "Walter 
charged  me  with  a  dozen  messages  about  breakfast, 
Mrs.  Blair,  but  I  have  forgotten  all  except  fried  chicken, 
batter-cakes  and  coffee.  They  are  wet  and  hungry,  and 
will  be  here  in  the  course  of  two  or  three  hours — as  soon 
as  the  hunt  is  over. ' 

"I  saw  Cousin  Sarah's  hand  shut  down  hard  upon 
the  gate. 

"  '  Was  anybody  killed  ?'  she  asked  outright. 

"  '  I  am  afraid  not  1'  said  Jo,  and  a  strange,  fierce 
expression  went  over  his  face,  very  different  from  his 
usual  kind,  merry  look. 

"  I  saw  the  same  very  often  in  men's  eyes  and  coun- 
tenances in  the  next  few  weeks.  The  white  people 
were  enraged  and  disappointed  at  the  conduct  of  the 
servants  they  had  regarded  as  part  of  their  families. 
They  had  never  dreamed  of  such  a  thing  as  a  general 
rising  of  the  negroes.  Yet  here  it  was  actually  upon 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  29 

us  !  If  Colonel  Prosser's  body -servant  had  been  as  false 
as  the  rest ;  if  Mr.  Mosby's  Pharaoh  had  been  less  soft- 
hearted, even  the  rising  of  the  water  would  only  have 
delayed  the  destruction  of  the  city.  Gabriel  would 
have  gone  around  the  head  of  the  creek,  or  down  lower 
to  a  bridge.  Men  had  been  so  close  to  a  horrible  death 
—had  seen  so  clearly  the  fate  that  threatened  their 
wives  and  innocent  babes — that  they  could  not  forgive 
and  forget  directly.  It  was  many  months  before  we 
were  quite  easy  in  our  minds,  before  we  got  back  our 
confidence  in  the  people  that  cooked  our  victuals  and 
nursed  our  children. 

"  Gabriel  and,  I  think,  three  others  of  the  ringleaders 
were  taken  in  different  hiding-places  and  brought  to 
Richmond  jail.  They  had  a  fair  trial,  and  were  con- 
demned to  death.  They  were  hanged  in  October  of  the 
same  year — 1800." 

"But  the  thousands  of  followers ?"  questioned  Mr. 
Bradley.  "  Surely  they  were  not  suffered  to  go  un- 
punished ?" 

"Why  not,  poor  things  ?"  Aunt  Betsey's  merciful 
eyes  put  the  query  more  emphatically  than  did  her 
tongue.  "  If  they  had  not  been  deceived  and  tempted 
and  led  on  by  designing  men  they  would  never  have 
thought  of  lifting  a  finger  against  us.  The  day  after 
the  rising,  they  were  all  back  in  their  homes,  doing 
housework,  hoeing  corn,  picking  off  tobacco-worms — 
whatever  was  the  business  set  for  them,  just  as  if  no- 
thing had  happened.  Their  owners  asked  no  questions. 
They  didn't  want  to  know  which  of  them  had  meant  to 
butcher  them  in  their  beds  not  twelve  hours  before." 

"It  was  a  false  step,  nevertheless — mistaken  mercy  !" 
insisted  the  tutor,  rising  as  he  talked.  "  The  claims  of 
justice  should  have  been  satisfied  at  whatever  cost  of 
expediency  or  personal  feeling.  So  deep  a  wound  to 


80  JUDITH: 

the  body  politic  could  not  be  safely  salved  over  or  cov- 
ered up.  The  thorough  course  is  always  the  best  one. 
The  matter  should  have  been  probed  to  the  bottom. 
Who  knows  but  that  the  bullet  is  there  still  ?" 

"  Suppose  nothing  short  of  amputation — say  of  both 
legs — would  save  the  patient's  life  ?"  said  Uncle  Archie. 
"In  plainer  words — there  is,  in  my  opinion,  but  one 
way  of  avoiding  the  risk  of  servile  insurrection.  That 
is,  to  get  rid  of  slavery." 

"  You  should  be  a  better  judge  of  that  than  myself," 
rejoined  the  Northerner.  "In  New  England  it  became 
unprofitable  and  inconvenient,  and  it  is  not.  There  is 
the  history,  in  one  sentence,  of  emancipation  with  us." 

"  It  is  not  so  profitable  here  that  we  need  sell  our  lives 
to  preserve  it, ' '  replied  the  other.  ' '  Public  feeling  on  this 
subject  has  changed  materially  since  the  last  century. 
Good  men  do  not  hesitate  to  express  their  views  to  the 
effect  that  the  abolition  of  the  system  is  inevitable ; 
and,  taking  everything  into  consideration,  desirable. 
But,  for  the  sake  of  the  servant,  no  less  than  that  of 
the  master,  we  must  dispense  with  it  by  degrees,  as  they 
are  doing  in  the  Middle  States." 

"  Their  being  here  in  a  state  of  bondage  is  a  wrong 
inflicted  upon  them  and  us  by  our  forefathers  ;  a  wrong 
for  which  we,  their  descendants,  must  pay  dearly  unless 
we  set  it  right." 

My  grandmother  offered  the  observation  as  a  self- 
evident  proposition,  and  the  listeners  heard  it  as  quietly 
as  if  she  had  remarked  on  the  August  drouth. 

Uncle  Archie  laughed,  but  with  no  show  of  other  emo- 
tion than  affectionate  amusement. 

"  Mother  takes  steady  aim  when  slaveholding  comes 
within  gunshot.  And  all  the  while  she  knows  that  her 
servants  could  not  be  so  well  cared  for  anywhere  else  as 
they  are  on  her  plantation.  The  sin  of  having  them 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  31 

here  does  not  weigh  upon  my  mind  so  much  as  a  doubt  as 
to  the  best  way  of  shaking  the  state  clear  of  them.  For 
the  one  we  have  to  blame  Dutch  and  New  England 
pirates  and  nigger-traders.  The  other  is  an  existing 
evil  with  which  we  must  deal  personally." 

"  By  evil  do  you  mean  sin,  and  sin  per  se  ?"  demurred 
Mr.  Bradley. 

"Unless  the  Declaration  of  Independence  is  a  lie," 
the  Virginian  responded.  "Since  we  have  adopted  it 
as  the  rule  of  political  faith  and  practice  we  should  live 
up  to  it.  The  ownership  of  an  enslaved  nation  is  a 
satire  upon  a  republic,  however  well  it  may  have  agreed 
with  monarchy  and  colonial  times." 

"Pshaw!  now  they 're  beginning  to  talk  politics!" 
thought  I,  vexed  at  the  diversion  from  the  delightful 
horrors  of  Aunt  Betsey's  story.  I  did  not  like  political 
talk,  yet  much  of  the  essence  of  it  was  absorbed  by  the 
pores  of  my  small  mental  being.  I  was  used  to  discus- 
sions in  the  key  of  that  which  I  have  just  recorded. 
The  inconveniences  and  injustice  of  slavery — which  no- 
body spelled  with  a  capital  S,  or  thought  it  safest  to 
mention  under  his  breath — were  freely  admitted  by 
serious  thinkers.  The  divine  origin  of  what  had  not 
then  been  dubbed  "  The  Peculiar  Institution  "  was  not 
an  article  of  the  Virginian's  creed.  Many  influential 
planters  had  openly  expressed  their  intention  of  manu- 
mitting their  servants  by  will,  and  were  shaping  their 
financial  plans  to  that  effect.  I  had  heard  my  own  pa- 
rents commend  such  a  course;  was  familiar  with  the 
idea  that  by  the  time  I  was  grown,  "the  colored  folks" 
would  all  be  free  with  comfortable  homes  of  their 
own.  From  babyhood  I  was  taught  to  be  respectful 
to  the  elder  servants  and  not  to  maltreat  the  younger. 
"Because,"  as  was  often  impressed  upon  me,  "it  is 
mean  to  strike  one  who  has  no  right  to  strike  back." 


32  JUDITH: 

The  affectionate  intercourse  between  the  white  family 
and  their  negroes  was  a  matter  of  course — a  perfectly 
natural  state  of  affairs  in  the  estimation  of  all  parties 
concerned.  "  The  children  "  included  those  of  all  com- 
plexions. "Mam  Peggy,"  the  cook  for  forty  years  in 
the  Summerfield  kitchen,  swept  me  out  of  her  domain 
when  she  was  cross  or  busy,  as  emphatically  as  she  did 
her  grandchildren.  My  grandmother  and  aunts  sat  up 
at  night  with  the  sick  at  "  the  Quarter,"  tending  them 
as  assiduously  as  they  cared  for  invalids  of  their  own 
blood  and  name.  The  oldest  colored  person  on  the 
plantation  had  been  born  there  and  his  parents  before 
him.  "  Our  family"  was  referred  to  and  quoted  oftener 
by  them  than  by  their  owners,  and  meant  the  Summer- 
field  Eeads. 

I  state  these  facts  in  explanation  of  the  consterna- 
tion that  clutched  my  heart  in  the  review  of  the  tale  I 
have  set  down  as  it  fell  from  my  aunt's  lips.  I  had 
never  imagined  until  this  hour  the  existence  of  the 
sleeping  demon  in  home  and  state.  The  shock  could 
hardly  have  been  greater  had  doubts  of  my  sweet 
mother's  loving  kindness  been  injected  into  my  mind, 
or  if,  under  the  clear  frills  of  Grandma's  cap,  the  wolf's 
eyes  had  glared  into  mine  as  she  gave  me  a  "good- 
night "  kiss.  I  positively  ached  all  over  when  I  ceased 
listening,  and  began  to  reflect  upon  the  revelation  un- 
folded by  her  who,  I  instinctively  divined,  would  never 
have  touched  upon  it  had  she  dreamed  of  my  proxim- 
ity. With  the  inconsistent  reticence  of  childhood  I 
remained  quiet,  shrinking  yet  farther  into  my  "  chim- 
ney-place," not  daring  to  stir  hand  or  foot  for  fear  the 
rustling  vines  should  betray  me  and  my  innocent  eaves- 
dropping. Why  had  this  dreadful  possibility  of  treach- 
ery and  carnage  been  veiled  from  me  all  the  ten  years 
of  my  life  ?  My  uncle  had  not  hidden  from  my  childish 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  33 

comprehension  the  meaning  of  the  portentous  words. 
"servile  insurrection.^  Both  were  new  to  me,  but  I 
gathered  the  force  of  the  phrase  and  shuddered  away 
from  the  pit  opened  at  my  feet.  It  was  like  the  awaken- 
ing from  peaceful  dreams  to  find  the  chamber  walls 
ablaze  and  tottering  inward. 

From  my  nook  I  looked  across  the  yard,  shaded  by 
locust  and  aspen,  to  a  row  of  hale  Lombardy  poplars, 
stretching  illimitable  shadows  over  turf,  house  and  gar- 
den. Beyond  the  poplars  and  the  white  yard-fence 
swelled  smooth  rolls  of  land,  green  with  corn,  cotton  and 
tobacco.  Afar  off  was  the  plantation  gate  opening  upon 
the  highway,  the  road  to  it  twisting  like  a  dull-red  ribbon 
between  the  fields.  Two  tobacco-barns,  built  of  hewn 
logs,  stood  close  beside  it,  a  hundred  yards  apart — un- 
sightly edifices,  set  flush  with  the  road  for  the  conveni- 
ence of  loading  the  wagons  that  were  to  transport  the 
valuable  product  to  market.  To  my  left,  the  sward  was 
spread  past  well  and  ice-house  to  the  picket-fence  rail- 
ing in  the  house-yard.  "Within  this  inclosure  were  the 
kitchen  and  what  the  English  call  "offices  " — laundry, 
store-rooms  and  the  "smoke-house,  "in  which  the  bacon 
was  cured  in  the  winter  and  stored  for  the  year's  use. 
A  neat  story-and-a-half  cabin  between  dwelling  and 
garden  was  "Mammy's  house,"  the  lodging  from  gene- 
ration to  generation  of  the  confidential  maid  of  the 
mistress  of  Summerfield  and  the  nurse  of  her  children. 
A  flagged  walk  led  directly  from  this  to  "  the  chamber  " 
on  the  first  floor  of  "the  house."  Other  paths,  un- 
paved,  streaked  the  grass  in  the  direction  of  well,  offices 
and  "the  Quarter."  This  was  a  cluster  of  cabins  on 
a  slight  eminence  over  against  the  hill  on  which  the 
house  stood  and  nearly  an  eighth  of  a  mile  distant. 
Beyond,  and  girdling  all,  was  the  forest  line. 

Gabriel,    Michael's    double,    smock  -  frocked,    bare- 


34  JUDITH: 

headed  and  bare-footed,  was  driving  the  cows  boms 
from  pasture  along  the  winding  red  road.  As  he 
lounged  at  the  heels  of  the  herd  he  whistled  a  planta- 
tion melody.  A  mocking-hird  in  the  tallest  Lombardy 
poplar  added  a  pipe  that  was  hardly  sweeter  and 
clearer. 

A  tame  and  unromantic  scene — but  endeared  to  me 
by  associations  more  venerable  than  personal  memories. 
I  had  drawn  my  first  breath  under  the  roof  of  the  old 
house  against  which  I  now  leaned,  my  mother  having, 
as  was  the  manner  of  the  day,  come  back  to  her 
mother's  care  for  her  time  of  trial.  Bellair,  the  patri- 
monial estate,  to  which  my  father  had  succeeded,  was  in 
another  county  across  the  river,  and  on  higher  ground 
than  Summerfield ;  but  throughout  a  delicate  childhood 
no  other  air  agreed  so  well  with  me  as  that  which  wan- 
dered among  the  low  hills  environing  my  birthplace.  I 
asked  no  better  entertainment  than  the  society  of  the 
aunts  who  borrowed  me  for  months  at  a  time  ;  no  richer 
queendom  than  my  sovereignty  over  the  crew  of  colored 
children  who  were  my  comrades  in  tramps  through  field 
and  wood,  my  loving  satellites  in  the  simple  round  of 
daily  duties  and  pleasures. 

Family  annals  and  plantation  traditions  had  been  my 
delight  from  the  time  I  could  run  and  talk.  There  was 
an  assimilative  quality  in  such  to  my  mental  and  moral 
constitution  that  made  them  a  corporate  part  of  thought 
and  existence.  Tribal  love  and  loyalty  were  a  heredi- 
tary transmission  in  my  case,  and  also  cultivated  by 
every  influence  of  early  years. 

"  I  thought  Aunt  Betsey  had  told  me  every  single 
thing  about  the  Blairs  and  her  visits  to  Richmond," 
said  I  inly,  with  a  swelling  heart.  "  She  might  have 
trusted  me  not  to  repeat  things  which  are  not  conve' 
nient  to  be  snoken  of" — Aunt  Betsey's  own  phraseology, 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  35 

after  St.  Paul.  "I  never  even  knew  that  anybody's 
servants  cared  so  much  to  be  free  that  they  would  kill 
their  masters  to  get  rid  of  them.  I  shall  never  trust 
one  of  them  again — never  !  They  're  as  had  as  Kobes- 
pierre's  Frenchmen — every  bit !" 

I  saw  Mr.  Bradley  and  Aunt  Maria  go  down  the  path 
toward  the  Quarter  ;  then  Uncle  Archie  and  Miss  Vir- 
ginia Dabney — he  tall  and  dark,  she  blond  and  petite 
-—follow  them,  talking  earnestly.  I  even  noted,  with 
the  shrewdness  of  a  child  whose  chief  associates  are 
people  much  older  than  herself,  how  he  looked  down  at 
her  in  holding  back  the  little  swing-gate  at  the  foot  of 
the  lawn — just  the  same  mixture  of  amusement,  admi- 
ration and  love  I  had  seen  in  his  countenance  when  she 
recalled  the  names  of  the  archangelic  twins.  The  four 
crossed  the  "branch"  separating  the  hills,  mounted 
the  farther  of  the  two,  and  disappeared  in  the  pine 
woods  crowning  it.  Uncle  Wythe  brought  out  his 
school-books — a  formidable  pile — established  himself 
upon  the  porch  steps,  and  began  studying  the  morrow's 
lessons.  I  had  tasks  to  prepare,  too  ;  and  Mr.  Bradley, 
although  kind  and  helpful,  was  strict.  But  I  sat  still, 
miserable  and  half  angry.  Aunt  Betsey  picked  up  the 
key  basket  from  the  floor  when  she  had  rolled  up  her 
stocking  tightly  and  stuck  the  needles  into  the  ball. 

"Peggy!"  she  called  from  the  end  of  the  piazza 
nearest  the  kitchen,  "  it  is  time  to  get  out  supper." 

She  went  across  the  yard  to  the  store-room,  where 
barrels  of  flour,  meal,  sugar,  rice  and  salt  were  kept 
with  bags  of  coffee,  tubs  of  lard,  soap,  starch,  candles 
and  other  groceries.  I  seldom  failed  to  follow  her  in 
these  visits,  sugar,  raisins  and  stick  cinnamon  being 
dainties  to  a  country-bred  child.  They  did  not  tempt 
me  in  my  present  mood.  Mam  Peggy  joined  her  at  the 
store-room  door,  bread-tray  and  sifter  in  hand.  Pre- 


36  JUDITH: 

sently  I  heard  from  the  kitchen  the  thump  of  the  rolling- 
pin  on  the  biscuit-block.  I  loved  beaten  biscuit,  and 
none  others  so  well  as  those  I  made  myself  of  the  bits 
thrown  off  in  the  beating  and  caught  up  as  perquisites 
of  the  gleaner.  The  thought  of  them  turned  me  sick 
now.  Grandma  sat  in  her  straight-backed  chair  and 
knitted  her  lamb's-wool  sock,  the  embodiment  of  placid 
ease  and  holy  content. 

I  propped  my  elbows  on  my  knees,  my  chin  in  my 
hands,  and  tugged  at  the  suddenly-tangled  threads  of 
thought  and  anticipation  until  two  tears,  round  as  beads, 
broke  splashingly  upon  the  story  of  the  naughty  boy 
who  ate  the  "  pretty  plant  with  a  small  white  flower." 

Had  not  Grandma  spoken  of  rivers  of  blood  that 
must  have  followed  the  course  of  servile  insurrection  ? 
Had  not  Uncle  Archie  affirmed  that  the  only  preventive 
of  such  a  catastrophe  was  to  free  the  slaves  ?  Had  not 
Grandma,  who  never  uttered  idle  words,  declared  their 
being  here  at  all  to  be  a  wrong  for  which  we  must  pay 
dearly,  if  it  were  not  set  right  ? 

Yet,  were  not  my  grandmother,  my  parents — all  of 
my  kith  and  kin — slave-owners  up  to  this  very  eighth 
month  of  the  year  of  our  Lord  1831  ? 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA. 


CHAPTEK  HI. 

"  WAKE  up,  honey  !  What 's  the  matter  with  you  ?" 

It  was  not  quite  dark  when  I  went  to  bed.  I  re- 
membered watching  the  fading  into  ashy  gray  of  one 
pink  cloud  resting  long  and  motionless  against  the  pale- 
blue  sky  above  the  top  of  the  big  walnut  tree  in  front 
of  the  house.  The  wide-flung  masses  of  green  were 
the  last  thing  I  saw  at  night,  the  first  in  the  morning. 
There  had  been  solace  in  the  familiar  outlines,  comfort 
and  hope  in  their  stability,  on  this  particular  evening. 
But  for  them  I  could  not  have  borne  to  go  to  my  room 
alone.  I  said  my  prayers  at  the  window  that  looked 
into  the  branches.  It  seemed  but  a  few  minutes  there- 
after when  Mammy  stood  by  my  bed  with  a  candle  in 
her  hand. 

"It's  me,  Miss  Judith,"  she  said  soothingly. 
"You've  had  a  mighty  bad  night-m'yar'.  I  heerd 
you  all  the  way  down  to  Mistis'  room,  an'  come  up  to 
look  arfter  you." 

I  sat  upright,  staring  at  her,  and  pushed  my  wet  hair 
back  with  both  hands.  My  face  was  dripping  with  cold 
sweat. 

"  Oh,  Mammy  I"  I  gasped,  "  I  thought  I  was  in  the 
middle  of  Gabriel's  insurrection,  and  Jack  Bowler  was 
about  to  kill  me  !  You  wouldn't  let  him  !  You  wouldn't 
hurt  me,  would  you  ?  Mammy  I  Mammy  I" 

I  threw  myself  upon  her  neck  with  the  cry  and  sobbed 
violently.  She  set  down  the  candle,  seated  herself  on 
the  bedside  and  gathered  me  into  her  arms. 

"Who  's  been  a-scarin'  you,  Miss  Judith  ?"  I  heard 


38  JUDITH: 

her  say  when,  by  patting,  cooing  and  rocking,  she  had 
calmed  my  hysterical  paroxysm.  "It's  wicked  in 
grown  folks  to  talk  to  chillen  'bout  sech  things.  I  can't 
think  who  's  had  the  heart  to  do  it.  Your  Ma  wouldn't 
like  it  ef  she  was  to  hear  it." 

"Nobody  told  me — nobody  talked  to  me.  Aunt 
Betsey  was  telling  the  others  on  the  back  porch  this 
evening.  They  didn't  think  about  my  being  there.  I 
never  knew  such  dreadful  things  could  be !  I  feel  as  if 
I  could  never  be  happy  again — never  have  another  good 
night's  rest.  It 's  like  walking  over  the — bad  place  /" 

I  hurried  it  all  over  in  a  shuddering  whisper.  The 
monosyllabic  name  of  the  locality  and  the  title  of  the 
master  of  the  region  were  "swear  words"  to  me  as  a 
Presbyterian  child.  That  I  alluded  thus  plainly  to 
either,  showed  how  intense  was  my  excitement. 

Mammy  was  silent.  The  quartette  of  young  people 
who  had  occupied  the  back  piazza  in  the  afternoon  was 
now  convened  in  the  square  front  porch,  and,  as  I 
ceased  speaking,  began  to  sing.  Aunt  Maria's  fresh 
voice  led  a  three-part  fugue  in  what  was  then  known  as 
the  tenor — what  we  call  now  the  treble  or  soprano : 
"  O  send  Thy  light  to  guide  my  feet." 

The  base  picked  up  the  burden  at  the  fourth  word,  the 
treble  (the  modern  tenor)  at  the  sixth,  and  went  chasing 
one  another  through  twenty  bars : 

"  O  send  Thy  light  to  guide  my  feet, 

And  bid  Thy  truth  appear  ; 
Conduct  me  *o  Thy  holy  hill, 
To  taste  Thy  mercies  there." 

They  had  never  sung  the  fugue  before  without  notes, 
and  went  through  it  again  and  again,  led  by  Mr.  Brad- 
ley. I  had  seen  such  rehearsals  so  often  that  I  pictured 
to  myself  just  how  he  was  standing  on  the  lowest  step 
of  the  porch,  facing  the  group  upon  the  upper,  and 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  39 

beating  time  with  his  tuning-fork.  I  followed  them 
once  until  all  brought  up  on  the  long-held  "  open  note  " 
at  the  close.  Then  I  began  to  wonder  why  Mammy  sat 
so  still,  her  back  to  the  light,  her  head  bowed  upon  her 
breast.  Me  she  had  put  down  upon  the  pillow,  when 
she  had  turned  and  shaken  it,  and  was  now  fanning  me 
in  slow,  long  sweeps  with  a  turkey-feather  fan. 

I  touched  her  timidly. 

"  You  are  not  mad  with  me,  Mammy  !" 

"Mad,  chile  !  did  you  ever  know  me  to  be  mad  'long 
you  sence  you  was  born  ?  I  was  the  firs'  to  dress  you 
in  this  pore,  sinful  worl',  honey.  I  had  washed  an' 
dressed  your  ma  in  the  same  way  befo'  you.  Some- 
times I  've  wondered  ef  'twouldn't  'a'  been  kinder  jes' 
to  put  you  out  o'  your  misery  then  an'  there.  You  'd 
'a'  gone  straight  home.  An'  the  yearth  is  got  so  crooked 
nowadays !" 

"That  would  have  been  murder,"  was  my  sensible 
comment. 

"  True,  chile.  An'  I  couldn't  'a'  brung  myself  to  hurt 
a  h'yar  of  your  sweet  head.  There  is  them  that  kills 
both  soul  an'  body.  Nobody  ken  hurt  a  baby's  soul, 
thank  the  Lord  !  But  when  them  that's  old  in  sin  an' 
years  is  sent  to  their  account,  '  wo  unto  him  by  whom 
the  offense  cometh  !'  Them  's  Bible  words  !  Seems 
like  the  worl'  is  a-gittin'  so  wuthless  that  the  Almighty 
Himself  won't  be  able  to  do  nothin'  with  it  but  jes'  to 
pitch  it  into  the  las'  burnin'.  Would  you  min'  readin' 
a  little  piece  out  o'  the  Bible  from  the  place  Mars' 
Archibald  read  to-night  at  pra'rs  ?" 

She  brought  book  and  candle  from  the  table,  slipped 
her  arm  under  me  to  raise  me  to  a  sitting  posture. 

"It's  'bout  wars  an'  all  kinds  o'  trouble,"  she 
prompted,  seeing  me  turn  the  leaves  irresolutely.  "  St. 
Mark — he  tells  'bout  it. r- 


40  JUDITH: 

Searching  from  chapter  to  chapter  I  happened  upon  it : 

"  And  when  ye  hear  of  wars  and  rumors  of  wars,  be 
ye  not  troubled,  for  such  things  must  needs  be  ;  but  the 
end  is  not  yet.  For  nation  shall  rise  against  nation, 
and  kingdom  against  kingdom,  and  there  shall  be  earth- 
quakes in  divers  places,  and  there  shall  be  famines  and 
troubles  ;  these  are  the  beginnings  of  sorrows." 

I  was  going  on  with  the  next  verse,  but  she  gently 
withdrew  the  volume. 

"  That  '11  do,  honey  !  That 's  as  much  as  I  ken  take 
at  a  time.  I  reckon  I  'd  better  blow  the  light  out.  The 
candle-bugs  is  mighty  troublesome  at  this  season  of  the 
year.  But  I  '11  set  by  you  'tel  you  go  to  sleep,  seem' 
you  're  kind  o'  res'less  to-night." 

She  settled  herself  in  a  chair  at  my  bedside  and  began 
rubbing  my  feet  and  ankles  gently  to  allay  my  nervous- 
ness. By  the  starlight  and  the  faint,  purple  shimmer 
that  does  not  leave  the  August  sky  until  near  the  dawn, 
I  could  see  the  outlines  of  her  tall,  powerful  figure  sway- 
ing slightly  as  she  rubbed,  her  white  turban  nodding  in 
the  gloom  like  a  bursting  cotton-pod  swayed  by  the 
breeze.  The  fugue  was  raised  more  confidently  from 
below  stairs. 

"  O  send  Thy  light, 
O  send  Thy  light, 
O  send  Thy  light  to  guide  my  feet  I" 

"  That 's  a  good  pra'r  !"  observed  Mammy  presently. 
"  But  when  all 's  said  an'  done,  thar  's  no  gittin'  "round 
nor  rubbin'  out  them  words  you  read — '  sech  things 
must  needs  be. '  'Twould  be  easier  to  b'ar  ef  we  onder- 
stood  better  the  why  an'  wharfo'.  'Tought  to  be  'nough 
to  feel  that  the  Lord  knows,  an'  has  got  hole  of  the 
handle  that  moves  the  univarse.  But  we  're  mighty 
weak  an'  doubtful  cre'turs.  An'  the  ole  Satan,  he's 
all  the  time  a-movin'  an'  a-seekin'  an'  a-roarin'  an'  a- 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  41 

devourin'.  Thar  ain't  no  sign  of  his  bein'  caught, 
much  less  chained,  for  a  long  time  to  come.  Lord !" — 
she  lifted  her  arms  in  the  darkness,  as  if  to  lay  hold  of 
the  Unseen  Strength — "  Lord  !  how  long  !  how  long !" 

"  What  has  happened,  Mammy  ?"  The  gesture  and 
the  heavy  sadness  of  her  tone  struck  me  as  peculiar. 
"  What  is  going  to  happen  ?" 

She  quieted  down  in  an  instant,  rubbing  me  as  before. 

"The  Lord  knows,  dearie;  I  don't!  His  holy  will 
will  be  done  'mong  the  'habitants  of  the  yearth  what- 
ever we  may  say  and  think.  He  ken  make  the  wrath 
an'  foolishness  an'  even  the  blood-guiltiness  of  men  to 
praise  Him.  S'pose  now,"  rousing  herself  to  brisker 
speech  and  manipulation,  "I  was  to  tell  you  a  story 
to  put  you  to  sleep  ?  'Tain't  right  for  little  ladies  to  lay 
'wake  'tel  all  times  o'  night." 

I  nestled  satisfiedly  among  my  pillows.  Mammy's 
stories  were  a  never-stale  delight.  When  I  was  a  mere 
baby  I  learned  from  her  the  folk-lore  made  famous,  in 
this  our  day,  by  "Uncle  Remus'  "  recapitulations. 
When  I  outgrew  the  fables  of  "  Brer  Kabbit"  and  "Brer 
B'ar,"  she  had  tales  of  real  life — a  bountiful  supply, 
valued  all  the  more  that  she  dealt  them  out  to  few. 
Without  austerity  her  demeanor  had  a  shade  of  reserve, 
her  carriage  a  dignity  that  kept  the  would-be  familiar 
at  a  distance.  She  was  never  merry  with  the  child-like 
hilarity  of  her  race,  although  never  gloomy.  Her  voice 
was  a  mellow  contralto,  her  speech  ungrammatical  and 
provincial,  but  never  coarse.  Her  intonations  were 
refined  and  very  sweet,  reminding  strangers  of  the  gra- 
cious gentlewoman  in  whose  service  she  had  lived  for 
thirty  years.  Like  my  grandmother  and  my  grand- 
aunt,  she  was  a  widow.  Her  only  child,  Uncle  Archie's 
foster-brother,  was  the  Summerfield  "dining-room  ser- 
vant." 


43  JUDITH: 

A  tempting  idea  seized  me. 

"Tell  me  the  whole  story  of  your  life,  won't  you? 
Make  a  memoir  of  it — a  biography,  Mammy,  like  Miss 
Hannah  More's.  I  heard  Grandma  say  to  Mrs.  Pres- 
ton the  other  day  :  '  You  know  that  I  have  an  African 
princess  on  my  plantation.  I  mean  'Eitta.  She  has 
French  blood  in  her  veins,  too. '  And  Mrs.  Preston 
said :  '  That  accounts  for  her  being  such  a  superior 
person.  I  am  a  firm  believer  in  blood. '  What  did  they 
mean  ?" 

She  drew  the  linen  sheet  gently  over  my  limbs, 
straightened  herself  in  her  chair  and  folded  her  arms  in 
unconscious  stateliness. 

"Mistis  tole  the  truth,  I've  been  hear  my  mother 
say,  many  a  time,  that  her  father  was  a  king  in  his  own 
country.  Thar  was  fightin'  and  wars  thar  too.  Sech 
bloody  an'  deceitful  wars  that  sometimes  they  eat  their 
enemies  when  they  were  took  in  battle,  an'  other  times 
sole  them  to  nigger-traders.  One  day  my  gran'father 
went  to  fight  at  the  head  of  his  army,  and  was  took 
prisoner.  He  had  the  name  of  bein'  a  great  warrior, 
and  his  enemies  were  'fraid  to  let  him  loose.  So  they 
carried  him  down  to  the  sho'  whar  a  white  folks'  vessel 
was  waitin'  for  a  load  o'  mizzable  fellow-bein's,  an'  sole 
him — my  mother  use'  to  declar' — for  a  kaig  o'  New 
England  rum  !  He  was  passed  from  one  plantation  to 
another  'tel  one  o'  the  Reads  bought  him,  and  so  he 
come  into  ole  Marster's  han's — he  that  was  your  great- 
gran'pa.  I  don'no'  what  the  king  was  name'  in  his 
own  country,  but  in  Ameriky  they  called  him  '  Scipio, ' 
and  give  him  a  surname,  '  Africanus. '  I  remember  it 
'cause  it  was  so  much  like  the  land  he  come  from.  It 
sounds  sorter  heathenish,  too.  But  mos'ly  he  went  by 
the  title  of  '  Scip  Bead.'  He  didn't  die  'tel  I  was  mos' 
grown.  I  recklect  him  as  plain  as  ef  he  had  sot  in  the 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  43 

chimbley  cornder  o'  Mammy's  house  yes'day  evenin'  a- 
smoking'  of  his  pipe,  an'  makin'  us  chillen'  min'.  He 
was  black  as  sut'  (soot),  '  but  he  had  a  noble  'portment 
when  he  was  nigh  'pon  a  hund'ed  year  ole.  He  was 
Marster's  carridge-driver  's  long  as  he  could  work,  an' 
Marster  and  Mistis  set  a  heap  o'  store  by  him. 

"He  warn't  converted  'tel  'bout  fifteen  year  befo' 
his  death.  Then  he  got  through  in  a  powerful  revival 
of  religion,  the  mos'  wonderful  ever  seen  'bout  here. 
'Twas  like  a  fresh  in  the  creek.  It  swep'  off  a  heap  o' 
ole  dry  an'  rotten  logs  that  had  been  lay  in'  so  long  on 
the  bank  folks  had  clean  given  'em  up.  They  say  my 
pore  ole  gran'daddy  he  kneel  down  right  in  the  meetin' 
an'  shouted  an'  blessed  God  for  the  'flictions  of  his 
youth,  an'  he  a-holdin'  up  his  han's  with  two  fingers 
shot  off  o'  one  of  'em  in  the  battle  whar  he  was  took 
pris'ner  !  When  he  come  to  jine  the  church  he  'fessed 
to  the  preacher  (ole  Parson  Watkins  it  was)  that  he 
never  in  all  them  years  had  laid  down  at  night  'thout 
say  in'  over  a  heathen  charm  that  was  certain  to  be- 
witch, an'  mos'  likely  destroy  the  men  that  took  him 
pris'ner  an'  the  nigger-trader  that  bought  him. 

"  '  Now,'  says  he,  '  the  debbil  done  lef '  my  heart  so 
clean  an'  sweet  I  ken  pray  for  'em  all — blackaman  an' 
whitey. ' 

"  He  allers  spoke  very  uncorrect  to  the  las'. 

"Parson  Watkins — he  preach  his  funeral  sermon 
from  the  tex',  'Ethiopia  shall  stretch  out  her  han's 
unto  the  Lord.'  4 

' '  But  Mistis,  she  say  she  'd  ruther  have  had,  '  What 
I  do  thou  knowest  not  now,  but  thou  shalt  know  here- 
after.' » 

"  What  sort  of  charm  was  it,  do  you  suppose  ?  And 
could  it  really  do  anybody  any  harm  ?" 

"  I  don'no',  Miss  Judith.    In  our  Saviour's  time  tho 


44  JUVItH: 

Evil  One  had  great  power.  He  ain't  los'  it  all,  certain, 
an'  he  's  allers  willin'  an'  a-waitin'  to  put  his  han'  to 
any  bad  job.  Thar 's  many  sensible  persons  believes  in 
spells  an'  witches.  I  reckon  the  good  is  boun'  to  come 
out  ahead  in  the  long  run,  but  it 's  a  tough  race  for 
awhile.  Thar 's  whar  the  l  mus'  needs  )»e'  comes  in 
again  I  "  sighing  deeply. 

"  Go  on  with  your  story,  Mammy!"  I  nudged  her 
as  she  was  relapsing  into  revery. 

"Sure  'nough,  dear!  Thinkin'  comes  easier  than 
talkin'  to  people  that  are  gittin'  on  in  years.  'Pears 
like  we 's  gittin'  use'  to  the  las'  sleep  in  the  grave, 
whar  thar  's  no  speech  nor  langidge.  Firs',  we  don' 
hear  so  well ;  then,  the  eyes  is  darkened ;  then,  the 
tongue  gets  slow  an'  heavy.  All  over  us  we  're  bein' 
made  ready  for  the  silence  an'  the  night.  That 's  the 
Lord's  way  o'  preparin'  His  people  for  what  mus'  come 
— what  we  can't  git  shet  of." 

I  fidgeted  uneasily. 

"  That 's  preaching,  Mammy  !  I  always  skip  the 
stupid-good  parts  of  memoirs,  even  on  Sundays.  Tell 
me  about  your  French  blood.  Was  your  father  a 
French  king  ?" 

"He  was  a  French  servant,  chile!"  gravely.  "My 
ole  marster  had  a  brother — Mars'  Littleton  Read — who 
went  to  France  to  finish  his  edication.  This  was  befo' 
the  long  war,  an'  he  stayed  'cross  seas  two  years.  When 
he  come  home  he  fetched  with  him  a  young  French 
"body-servant  name'  Francis  Bernard.  My  mother  was 
ole  Mistis'  maid,  an'  as  likely  a  girl  as  could  be  foun' 
in  this  country  or  any  other.  So  this  Francis  he  fell  in 
love  with  her,  an'  one  day  he  come  to  Mars'  Littleton, 
an'  ask  leave  to  marry  her  in  good  an'  reg'lar  style — 
same  like  she  was  a  white  woman.  For  that  marter,  he 
warn't  so  mighty  fa'r  himself,  but  mo'  like  a  light 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  45 

mulotter.  Ole  Marster  an'  Mistis  they  wouldn't  hear 
on  it  for  a  long  while,  an'  wanted  Mars'  Littleton  to 
send  his  man  away.  But  he  said  he  couldn't  do  with- 
out him,  an'  wouldn't.  He  was  dreadful  sot  in  his  ways, 
Mars'  Littleton  was,  an'  I  reckon  Francis  had  caught 
the  same  complaint.  He  wouldn't  give  up  his  notion, 
neither,  an'  kep'  pesterin'  his  young  marster,  an'  he 
a-dingin'  at  his  brother,  until  bimeby  ole  Marster  he  had 
to  give  in.  He  sont  for  a  white  preacher  though,  an' 
ole  Mistis  she  lent  the  bride  her  own  weddin'-veil,  an' 
had  a  beautiful  supper  for  them,  an'  they  war  married 
's  fas'  as  the  Gospel  could  marry  'em.  Colored  folks 
can't  be  married  to  anybody  by  law." 

"Why  not?" 

"  That 's  one  of  the  questions  I  can't  answer,  honey. 
I  reckon  'cause  a  woman  can't  have  two  marsters,  an' 
she  rs  born  one  man's  property.  Some  folks  say  ef  they 
war'  married  by  law  they  couldn't  never  be  separated 
nor  sole  apart.  Some  others  say  that  ef  a  man  on  one 
plantation  was  to  marry  a  woman  on  another  by  law, 
they  would  both  have  to  go  to  the  man's  marster  to 
avide  confusion  'bout  the  children.  I  don'  pretend  to 
onderstan'  how  that  mought  be.  All  I  know  is  white 
folks  is  married  by  law  an'  colored  ones  ain't.  I  've 
been  hear  tell,  too,  that  ole  Marster  could  'a'  been  took 
up  an'  tried  for  'lowin'  the  weddin',  an'  the  preacher 
for  marryin'  a  white  man  to  a  colored  woman.  Maybe 
folks  warn't  so  particklar  'bout  sech  things  in  them  ole 
times,  when  thar  was  Injins  an'  other  wile  cre'turs  to 
to  be  fit  "  (fought).  "  Or  maybe  they  counted  a  French- 
man no  better  than  a  colored  person.  Anyhow,  he  an' 
my  mother  was  married,  an'  they  lived  as  man  an'  wife 
for  better  'n  six  years  in  the  very  same  house  whar  I 
live  now,  out  yarnder  in  the  yard.  They  say  he  fixed  it 
up  beautiful.  He  planted  grape-vines  by  the  do',  an' 


46  JUDITH: 

fig  trees  at  the  end  by  the  chimbley,  an'  sot  out  the 
butter  an'  eggs  an'  jonquils  an'  vi'lets  that  bloom  soon 
in  the  spring,  even  now,  under  the  front  winder.  He 
kep'  the  house  whitewashed  inside  an'  out,  an'  put  up 
shelves  an'  cubberds  an'  all  sorts  o'  conveniences.  He 
warn't  a  Christyun  though.  The  firs'  thing  I  ken  re- 
member was  him  a-settin'  on  the  do'step,  playin'  the 
fiddle  an'  a-learnin'  me  to  dance  to  it,  an'  how  my 
mother  use'  to  run  into  the  house  an'  cry  when  he 
wouldn't  stop.  She  'd  been  brought  up  to  think  'twas 
a  sin  to  play  worldly  tunes  an'  to  dance.  In  his  out- 
landish country  everybody  did  it. 

"  Then  Mars'  Littleton  he  went  for  a  soldier  an'  took 
my  father  with  him.  I  reckon  that  was  how  he  got  into 
the  notion  of  leavin'  the  plantation.  Anyhow,  when 
the  war  was  over,  he  never  come  back.  He  an'  another 
Frenchman  stopped  in  Rlchmon'  an'  sot  up  in  business 
thar.  Both  of  'em  was  peart  fellows,  an'  they  'd  picked 
up  a  right  smart  chance  of  money  an'  idees  sence  they 
come  to  Ameriky.  Mars'  Littleton  he  died  the  las'  year 
o'  the  war,  an'  Francis  writ  a  very  polite  note  to  ole 
Marster  to  say  that  there  warn't  no  sense  in  his  makin' 
his  home  on  the  plantation  any  longer.  Nex'  thing  we 
had  news  that  he  was  gittin'  on  wonderful  in  town, 
makin'  money,  an'  very  pop'lar  with  everybody.  But 
not  a  word  from  him  for  my  mother  or  anybody  else. 

"Ole  Marster  an'  Mistis  died  in  the  one  year,  an' 
Mars'  Sterling,  your  gran'pa,  had  the  ole  place,  an' 
pretty  soon  he  brought  his  wife  home,  an'  she  took  a 
heap  o'  int'rust  in  my  mother  an'  me.  She  writ  to  a 
frien'  of  hers  in  Bichmon'  to  inquire  'bout  Mr.  Francis 
Bernard  in  a  quiet  sort  o'  way.  'Twouldn't  'a'  been  no 
use  to  try  to  git  him  back  seein'  they  warn't  married  by 
law.  Back  came  word  that  he  was  mighty  respectable, 
an'  in  a  fa'r  way  to  be  a  rich  man,  an'  how  he  was  jes' 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  41 

been  married  to  a  very  nice  lady — pore,  but  of  a  pretty 
good  family." 

"Mammy!  how  cruel !  how  wicked  !  when  his  first 
wife  was  living  !  Why,  that  is  sin  /"  cried  I,  summing 
up  the  case  in  the  concluding  word. 

"  Sin"  to  us  meant  more  than  error  or  fault.  It  was 
a  specific,  not  a  generic  term,  and  signified  downright 
infraction  of  some  section  of  the  Decalogue. 

"We  jes'  had  to  b'ar  it,  Miss  Judith.  Man's  law 
couldn't  tech  him.  Bern'  a  onbeliever,  he  didn't  con- 
sider the  law  of  his  God.  He  mought  go  on  a-flourishin' 
like  a  green  bay  tree,  with  none  to  moles'  or  make  him 
'fraid.  'Tain't  often  that  the  Lord  himself  speaks  out 
d'reckly  an'  loud  when  He  sees  sech  wickedness.  Ef 
He  says  to  himself  sentence  ag'inst  the  evil  work,  we 
ain't  none  the  wiser  'tel  His  time  for  punishment  is 
full  an'  ripe.  Then  comes  the  weepin'  an'  wailin'  an' 
gnashin'  o'  teeth.  The  Lord's  thoughts  ain't  our 
thoughts,  nor  His  day  our  'n." 

The  moon  was  peeping  at  me  through  the  lower 
boughs  of  the  walnut  tree.  The  fugue  burst  out  anew — 
was  carried  on  evenly,  in  good  time  and  tune,  to  the 
close.  We  stopped  our  talk  to  listen. 

"  O  send  Thy  light !" 
began  Aunt  Maria,  tenderly  fervent. 

"  O  send  Thy  light !" 

came  in  Uncle  Archie's  base,  steady  and  resonant  as  a 
drum. 

"  O  send  Thy  light  1" 

followed  the  young  Northerner's  better-trained  but 
lighter  voice,  with  some  sacrifice  of  expression  to  mu- 
sical accent. 

The  confluent  harmony  fulfilled  my  childish  ideal  of 
angelic  quiring. 


48  JUDITH: 

"  I  think  the  new  song  must  sound  very  much  like 
that,"  said  I,  when  the  last  note  had  throbhed  into 
silence  that,  to  my  fancy,  waited  for  more. 

"  My  pore  mother 's  been  a-singin'  it  for  this  many  a 
year,"  responded  Mammy. 

"  Did  she  die  of  a  broken  heart  ?" 

"No,  honey.  Workin'  people — plain,  every-day  folks 
— don't  gen'rally.  They  an't  take  time  for  the  disease 
to  run  its  course.  For  -all  that,  'twas  pitiful  to  hear 
her  sobbin'  an'  prayin'  in  the  dead  o'  night  when  she 
thought  everybody  was  'sleep.  I  never  let  on  to  her 
that  she  woke  me  up  sometimes  !  Thar  warn't  no 
yearthly  power  that  could  lift  so  much  as  the  little  end 
o'  her  cross.  'Twas  strapped  an'  buckled  on  too  tight 
for  her  to  shake  it  off  long  as  she  lived.  She  mought  a 
married  two  or  three  times,  bein'  considered  the  same 
as  a  widder,  but  she  said  'No!'  right  up  an'  down 
when  asked,  an'  Mistis  wouldn't  'low  her  to  be  pestered 
by  the  men.  She  allers  stood  out  that  my  mother  was 
right  not  to  think  o'  sech  things." 

"  Of  course  she  did  !"  interjected  I,  indignantly. 

"  Some  ladies  would  a  felt  an'  talked  different  to  a 
likely  young  woman.  I  'd  been  married  ten  year  when 
my  mother  went  away  for  good  from  this  worl'  o'  sin 
an'  misery.  Mistis  was  with  her  when  she  died,  an' 
closed  her  eyes  with  her  own  han's.  Then  she  stood 
lookin'  at  her,  the  tears  runnin'  down  her  sweet  face. 

"  '  Good  an'  faithful  I'  says  she.  '  Good  an'  faithful 
unto  death !  She  's  entered  into  the  joy  o'  her  Lord, 
Bitta  I'  says  she  to  me.  '  But  you  have  lost  a  mother., 
an'  I  one  o'  my  best  Men's.' 

"  She  helped  me  shroud  the  pore,  weary  body  in  one 
o'  her  own  gowns.     She  thought  everything  o'  her, 
Mistis  did ! 
u  *'  The  night  befo'  she  died,  my  mother  had  a  long  talk 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  49 

with  me  'bout  my  father.  She  hadn't  named  him  to 
me  in  more  'n  twenty  years.  Then  'twas  she  tole  me 
that  my  real  name  was  Marguerita.  I  hadn't  never 
known  it  befo'. 

"  '  It 's  French,'  says  she,  '  an'  he  named  you  arfter 
his  mother.  He  was  mighty  proud  an'  fond  o'  his  firs* 
baby.  'Fever  you  git  a  chance  to  speak  to  him  tell  him 
how  free  I  forgiv'  him  on  my  death-bed,  an'  how  I  hope 
he  '11  be  happy  here  an'  hereafter.  He  wouldn't  keer, 
maybe,  to  meet  me  in  heaven,'  says  she, '  an'  it 's  likely 
his  white  wife  would  be  more  suitable-like  for  him  in 
this  worl'  an'  the  nex'.  But  he  needn't  stay  out  o'  the 
kingdom  on  that  account.  The  houses  thar  is  many 
an'  wide.  I  'spose  he  mought  walk  'bout  the  golden 
streets  for  a  million  year  without  comin'  'cross  me  with- 
out he  chose  to  meet  me.  I  wouldn't  git  in  his  way.  I 
been  hear  tell, '  says  she,  kinder  wishful-like,  '  how  Mr. 
Baptist  preached  one  day  to  the  colored  people  at  Bed 
Lane  Church  that  thar  would  be  kitchens  in  heaven 
jes'  like  'tis  here,  an'  that  if  we  are  good  servants  on 
yearth  we  may  be  'lowed  to  tote  up  water  from  the  river 
o'  life  for  the  white  folks'  table.  But  Mistis,  she  say 
that  ain't  so — that  we  '11  all  be  free  an'  equil  thar.  I 
don'no'  'bout  that !  Don't  'pear  jes'  right  for  me  to  sit 
'longside  o'  a  lady  like  her  even  at  the  marridge-supper 
o'  the  Lamb,'  says  she. 

" '  The  Lord  will  manage  so 's  you  shell  feel  easy 
an'  happy  wherever  you  are  in  the  New  Jerus'lem, 
Mammy, '  says  I,  for  I  see  she  was  beginnin'  to  wander 
in  her  min'. 

"  She  giv'  a  little  smile  an'  turned  her  face  over  to  the 
pillow,  jes'  like  a  chile  goin'  to  sleep. 

"  '  You  won't  forgit  my  messidge  to  your  father,'  says 
she,  '  an'  how  I  won't  botbar  him  no  more  in  time  nor 
eternity  ?' 


50  JUDITH: 

"  So  I  promised  her,  solemn  an'  sure. 

"But  Kichmon'  is  a  good  many  mile  off  from  here, 
an'  Mistis  didn't  git  away  from  home  often.  Three 
years  was  gone  before  I  could  take  the  trip.  At  las' 
Mistis  went  down  one  spring  to  visit  her  cousins,  the 
Blairs  and  Pleasantses,  an'  Mrs.  Governor  Wood,  an' 
carried  me  with  her.  She  'd  tole  me  whar  my  father 
lived,  an'  I  didn't  forgit  it.  The  day  arfter  we  got 
to  town  I  asked  her  mought  I  go  out  for  a  walk,  an' 
hunted  'bout  'tel  I  foun'  the  street  an'  the  house. 
'Twas  on  Church  Hill,  an'  a  very  nice  brick  house  with 
guarden  an'  orchard  an'  all.  I  thought  in  a  minute  to 
myself  'twas  likely  he  'd  planted  the  flowers  an'  grape- 
vines an'  fig  trees.  Thar  was  a  pretty  summer-house 
one  side  of  the  guarden,  with  a  table  an'  a  cheer  in  it. 
I  could  jes'  'magine  mos'  as  plain  as  ef  I  "d  seen  him 
how  he  'd  sot  thar  warm  evenin's  smokin'  an'  readin'. 
I  walked  up  an'  down,  up  an'  down,  for  much  as  half  an 
hour  befo'  that  house  tryin'  to  find  heart  for  to  go  in.  I 
shuck  all  over  like  I  had  a  chill  when  I  thought  o'  meetin' 
my  father.  'Twan't  that  I  loved  him  exactly,  but  I 
reck'lected  him  holdin'  me  on  his  knee  an'  singin'  me 
to  sleep,  an'  how  my  mother  had  been  bound  up  in  him, 
an'  it  all  come  back  'pon  me  in  a  rush.  Bimeby,  jes'  as 
I  stopped  at  the  gate  to  try  to  steady  my  mind,  a  lady 
come  out  on  the  porch  an'  called  to  me. 

"  '  Come  in  !'  says  she,  friendly  an'  pleasant  as  could 
be.  '  I  saw  you  pass  several  times,  like  you  was  a-lookin' 
for  somebody,'  says  she.  'Can  I  do  anything  for 
you?' 

"  '  I  'm  lookin'  for  Mr.  Francis  Bernard,  ma'am,'  says 
I.  'I'd  like  to  speak  to  him. ' 

"  She  turned  as  white  as  the  wall,  an'  sot  right  down 
on  the  porch  bench. 

"'  You  haven't  heard,  then,  that  he's  dead!'  says 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  51 

she.  '  He  has  been  in  his  heavenly  home  a  year  this 
spring.  He  was  my  dear,  dear  husband  !' 

"With  that  she  pulled  out  her  handkerchief  an' 
began  to  cry. 

"  I  'd  dropped  down  on  the  other  bench  an'  couldn't 
have  spoke  a  word  ef  my  life  had  depended  on  it. 

"  'His  heavenly  home !'  thinks  I.  '  How  positive  she 
says  it !  Who  knows  but  he  has  had  my  mother's  mes- 
sidge  long  befo'  this  time  ?' 

"  Presen'ly  she  wipes  her  eyes,  an'  says  she,  a-smilin' 
in  a  sorrowful  way  : 

"'What  did  you  want  with  him?  Can  I  do  any- 
thing for  you  ?  What  is  your  name,  an'  whar  do  you 
come  from  ?' 

"  'My  name  is  Marguerita  Bernard,  ma'am,'  says  I. 
'  My  mistis  is  Mrs.  Read  of  Summerfield, County. ' 

"  Jes'  as  I  said  it,  I  see  two  young  ladies  standin'  in 
the  do'  behind  me.  One  of  them  steps  forward  before 
her  mother  could  speak.  She  had  a  dark  skin  and  big 
black  eyes.  The  other  was  fa'r  like  the  mother. 

"  '  Who  is  this  woman,  mother  ?'  said  the  dark  one, 
very  haughty-like.  '  Did  your  mistress  send  you  here  ? 
An'  what  is  your  business  with  Mrs.  Bernard  ?' 

"  Something  biled  up  in  me.  I  riz  right  up,  straight 's 
an'  arrow,  an'  faced  her,  an'  says  I : 

"  '  The  Lord  do  so  to  me,  an'  mo'  also,  ef  I  'm  tellin' 
anything  but  the  downright  truth !  My  mother  was 
married  to  yo'  father  in  the  sight  o'  God  an'  His  angels 
befo'  yo'  father  ever  see  yo'  mother,  an'  I  'm  his  chile  !' 

"I  thought  she  would  a  hit  me,  she  come  t'ward 
me  so  fierce  with  her  han'  up.  But  her  mother  she 
ketched  holt  o'  her. 

"  '  Marguerita,  be  still !'  says  she. 

"  It  went  through  me  like  a  shot  that  he  'd  made  no 
'count  o'  me,  but  called  another  chile  arfter  his  rnothef 


53  JUDITH: 

"  '  It 's  all  true  !'  says  Mrs.  Bernard.  "  He  tole  me 
'bout  it  years  ago.  when  he  'd  a  spell  of  sickness  an' 
thought  he  was  dyin'.  I  forgiv'  him  then ;  the  Lord 
forgiv'  him  arfterward.  If  he  had  sinned,  he  repented. 
Who  am  I  that  I  should  judge  him  ?' 

"  She  made  me  come  into  the  house,  an'  had  a  long 
talk  with  me,  an'  showed  me  my  father's  pictur'.  Then 
she  giv'  me  a  nice  snack  to  eat,  an'  asked  me  to  call 
an'  see  her  whenever  I  come  to  town.  Nobody  could 
a  behaved  kinder  than  she  did.  She's  dead,  too,  now. 
She  was  a  good  Christyun  if  ever  one  lived.  I  been 
hear  that  her  daughters  has  married  mighty  well. 
I  shan't  never  bother  them  ag'in  ;  but  I  wish  'em  well. " 

"But,  Mammy,  they  are  your  sisters  !" 

"  In  one  way,  honey — but  that  don't  count  for  much 
in  this  one-sided  world. 

"That  makes  me  say  what  I  do  say,"  she  resumed 
thoughtfully  after  a  pause;  "that  it  don't  stan'  to 
reason  as  everything  ken  be  sot  straight  and  satisfac- 
tory here.  'Tain't  man,  whose  breath  is  in  his  nostrils, 
who  is  got  the  right  to  overturn  an'  overturn  an'  over- 
turn, no  marter  how  upside-down  things  may  look  to 
be.  That's  the  Lord's  business,  an'  we  ain't  no  call  to 
pull  it  out  o'  His  ban's  befo'  He  's  half  done  with  it 
an'  ready  to  trust  it  to  us  for  the  finishin'  off.  You  ken 
sew  a  right  straight  seam  an'  hem  when  Mistis  or  Miss 
Betsey  has  fixed  it  an'  basted  it  down.  'Twould  be 
foolish  an'  disrespec'ful  in  you  to  undertake  the  whole 
job,  an'  you  know  it  well  enough  not  to  try  it.  The 
kingdom  of  heaven  ain't  the  only  thing  we  've  got  to 
receive  like  little  children.  It 's  one  thing  to  say,  '  His 
will  be  done,'  an'  another  to  suffer  it  I" 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          53 


CHAPTEB  IY. 

I  WAS  busy  next  morning  with  ray  neglected  lessons, 
my  feet  curled  up  under  me  on  a  rug  laid  in  the  shadiest 
corner  of  the  back  porch,  when  Miss  Virginia  Dabney 
came  out  to  me.  I  raised  my  eyes  from  the  dog-eared 
"  Emerson's  Arithmetic."  In  a  close  tussle  with  a  new 
rule  I  had  caught  the  click  of  her  slipper-heels  on  the 
hall-floor,  and  thrilled  to  the  square  toes  of  my  thick 
shoes.  There  is  an  almost  piteous  strain  in  the  wor- 
shipful regard  of  a  little  girl  for  a  beautiful  young 
woman.  It  may  be  the  eager,  unconscious  recognition 
of  the  possible  apotheosis  of  her  immature  self,  such  as 
quickens  the  sluggish  pace  of  the  caterpillar  brushed  by 
the  wing  of  a  passing  butterfly. 

This  city  maiden — whose  toilettes  were  a  wonder  in 
themselves  to  my  rustic  appreciation,  whose  smiles 
were  so  free  and  sweet,  her  spirits  so  buoyant  that  she 
seemed  to  me  to  glorify  a  room  by  entering  it — was  just 
now  my  terrestrial  goddess.  I  crimsoned  with  untold 
delight  when  she  accosted  me  suddenly  with  one  of  the 
endearing  terms  she  uttered  more  easily  than  did  my 
kinspeople ;  her  touch  was  a  benefaction,  her  kiss  an 
eestacy.  She  had  never  been  prettier  than  on  this  sum- 
mer morning.  No  pink-tipped  daisy  fresh  from  an 
English  dew-bath  could  be  fairer  and  brighter. 

She  wore  a  gown  of  fine  white  dimity,  her  shoulders 
being  covered  by  a  small  cape,  crossing  the  chest  in 
front,  leaving  bare  a  bewitching  triangle  at  the  neckr 
almost  as  purely  white  as  the  fabric.  Shoulder-puff? 
were  met  by  long  cambric  sleeves,  which  could  be  un- 


$4  JUDITH: 

buttoned  and  slipped  off  at  the  pleasure  of  the  wearer. 
These  were  finished  at  the  wrists  by  narrow  crimpec) 
ruffles  of  linen  lawn.  The  cape  was  trimmed  with  the 
same,  and  a  broader  frill  edged  the  skirt.  Ill-natured 
critics  spoke  of  her  hair  as  "  red,"  but  she  had  no  feel- 
ing on  the  subject  of  her  bright  locks.  They  were  soft, 
luxuriant,  and  curled  as  naturally  as  woodbine  tendrils, 
being  susceptible  of  many  varieties  of  effective  arrange- 
ment. She  might  well  be  content  with  them,  even  had 
they  not  set  off  to  such  advantage  the  exquisite  clear- 
ness of  her  complexion  and  contrasted  harmoniously 
with  the  blue  of  her  eyes. 

"Good-morrow,  my  little  Sweetbrier,"  she  said,  trip- 
ping up  to  me  to  tap  my  cheek  with  a  taper  fore- 
finger. 

She  was  never  prodigal  of  her  kisses,  nor  was  oscula- 
tion so  common — I  might  add,  so  cheap — a  ceremony 
then  as  now  in  the  most  affectionate  families. 

My  Uncle  "Wythe  had  nicknamed  me  "  Brier  "  when  I 
was  five  and  he  ten  years  old.  In  a  pitched  battle  for 
supremacy  he  had  boxed  my  ears.  I  fastened  one  hand 
in  his  hair,  the  nails  of  the  other  upon  his  face.  I  was 
very  much  ashamed  of  the  story  and  of  the  long  scar, 
like  an  untimely  wrinkle,  crossing  his  freckled  cheek. 
But  I  still  hated  him  when  he  used  the  unlucky  word  in 
teasing  or  rebuke.  Miss  Virginia's  amiable  tact  had 
drawn  the  sting  from  this  a  year  ago,  when  he  had 
goaded  me  to  stormy  but  ineffectual  tears.  She  scolded 
him — still  sweetly — for  "  persecuting  a  little  girl,"  and 
taking  me  upon  her  lap,  averred  "  that  Sweetbrier  was 
her  favorite  flower,  in  bloom  and  out.  It  was  sweet  and 
spicy,  and  no  more  thorny  than  was  necessary  to  keep 
rude  boys  at  a  distance.  She  meant  to  call  me  by  no 
other  name." 

Uncle  Archie  was  a  spectator  of  the  scene,  and  the 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  55 

next  day  transplanted  a  thrifty  root  of  sweetbrier  from 
the  woods  to  a  bed  of  prepared  soil  beside  the  front 
porch,  Miss  Virginia  superintending  the  pretty  bit  of 
horticulture.  It  had  taken  root  forthwith  and  flourished 
apace.  Uncle  Archie  had  the  "lucky  touch"  with  roots 
and  slips.  They  grew  when  and  wherever  he  set  them. 

While  she  looked  over  my  shoulder  now,  with  kindly 
offers  of  assistance  gratefully  and  conscientiously  de- 
clined, he  joined  us,  a  spray  of  sweetbrier — a  rose, 
two  buds  and  a  cluster  of  the  odorous  leaves — in  his 
hand.  He  offered  it  to  her,  smiling  silently,  when 
"  Good  mornings  "  had  been  exchanged. 

"  It  grows  lovelier  every  day,"  said  she,  accepting  the 
gift  without  spoken  thanks. 

She  inhaled  the  breath  of  the  opened  flower  long 
enough  for  my  eyes — and  perhaps  others — to  note  how 
perfectly  the  pale  rose-tint  matched  her  cheeks,  then 
pinned  it  at  the  top  of  her  corsage,  where  it  rested 
against  the  pearly  skin.  I  thought  how  few  women 
could  risk  the  contrast  safely,  and  how  free  from  vain 
imaginations  was  this  paragon  of  her  sex. 

The  pair  began  a  slow  promenade  of  the  porch  while 
awaiting  the  summons  to  prayers.  I  tried  faithfully 
to  concentrate  my  powers  of  observation  upon  Emer- 
son and  the  day's  sums  (we  did  not  call  them  "ex- 
amples ").  I  did  keep  my  eyes  upon  the  page  and  my 
lips  moved  in  mechanical  iteration.  In  the  calm  light 
of  day  and  the  steady  progress  of  a  restored  train  of 
ideas.  I  had  compunctious  visi tings  as  to  yesterday's 
eavesdropping.  I  would  hear  nothing  now — if  I  could 
help  it — that  was  not  directed  with  conscious  intent,  to 
my  ears.  Yet  whence  was  I,  inquisitive  little  sinner 
that  I  was,  to  draw  the  moral  courage  to  exclude  from 
these  organs  the  trickle  of  such  tempting  sentences  as 
were  projected  toward  me  with  each  turn  of  their  stroll 


56  JUDITH: 

at  my  end  of  the  piazza  ?  Hearing,  I  could  not  but 
heed;  heeding,  I  laid  up  and  pondered  then  and  re- 
member now. 

"  You  are  unjust  to  yourself.  Indeed,  you  have  never 
had  justice  done  you  1"  The  deliverance  was  so  silvery 
distinct  that  it  reached  me  from  the  other  extremity  of 
the  promenade.  "I  am  angry  whenever  I  recollect 
that  you  had  to  give  up  the  hope  of  an  education  and 
settle  down  at  nineteen  to  a  farmer's  life." 

"An  education "  meant  a  collegiate  course.  The 
Reads  belonged  to  what  Dr.  Holmes  has  taught  us  to 
call  the  "Brahmin  Caste" — "that  in  which  aptitude 
for  learning  is  congenital  and  hereditary.  Their  names, ' ' 
he  goes  on  to  say,  "  are  always  on  some  college  cata- 
logue or  other.  They  break  out  every  generation  or 
two  in  some  learned  labor  which  calls  them  up  after  they 
seem  to  have  died  out." 

Young  as  I  was,  I  understood  that  not  to  be  college- 
bred  was  very  near  akin  to  loss  of  caste ;  shrank  from 
the  touch  on  a  sore  place  at  this  overt  allusion  to 
what  was  seldom  mentioned  in  the  family.  Mammy 
and  Aunt  Betsey  had,  between  them,  let  me  into  the 
secret,  enjoining  discretion  upon  me,  as  it  was  "  a  great 
grief  to  Grandma." 

"It  was  unavoidable,"  I  heard  Uncle  Archie  say, 
with  no  haste  of  self-vindication,  but  rather  as  if  allay- 
ing another's  disappointment. 

Again  the  silvery,  somewhat  thin  voice  in  reply  : 

"Yes,  I  know!  Maria  told  me  one  day  last  year 
— how  it  was  decided  that,  since  your  mother  could  af- 
ford, at  that  time,  to  educate  but  one  of  you,  you,  as 
the  eldest  son,  should  of  course  enter  college ;  how, 
the  very  day  before  you  were  to  set  out — after  your 
trunk  was  packed — you  happened  to  find  Sterling  lying 
flat  on  his  face  in  the  woods,  crying — " 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  57 

The  rest  was  lost  in  the  distance.  When  they  neared 
me  again  Uncle  Archie  was  speaking. 

"  He  has  fine  talents.  I  knew  this  then  as  well  as  I 
do  now  that  he  has  proved  by  his  college  career  what 
stuff  he  is  made  of.  He  will  be  a  man  of  mark  should 
his  life  be  spared.  I  deserve  no  credit  for  what  you  call 
a  sacrifice.  I  should  have  committed  a  crime  had  I — " 

The  girl  came  to  a  full  stop  midway  in  the  porch  at 
their  next  round ;  set  her  foot  down  hard  and  looked 
at  him,  eyes  flashing  and  lips  pouting. 

"  I  can't  bear  to  hear  you  say  that,  Mr.  Bead !  '  No 
talent  to  speak  of!'  You  'lay  claim  to  nothing  better 
than  hard,  common  sense  !'  Don't  you  know  that  stupid, 
ordinary  people — and  so  many  of  those  we  meet  are 
stupid  and  ordinary  ! — will  take  you  at  your  own  valua- 
tion ?  will  believe  your  slanders  of  yourself?  Mr.  Ster- 
ling Bead  is  very  brilliant,  I  've  no  doubt,  but  his  mind 
is  no  better  or  stronger  than  yours.  Why  will  you  fret 
me  by  insisting  upon  the  contrary  ?  Don't  I  know  you  ?" 

Italics  convey  no  just  sense  of  the  eloquent  shades  of 
emphasis,  nor  would  a  word-portrait  of  the  changeful 
face  uplifted  to  the  morning  light.  The  pale  rose  was 
damask  red,  her  eyes  gleamed  moistily.  She  plucked, 
nervously,  leaf  after  leaf  from  a  jasmine  streamer,  to 
throw  them  on  the  floor.  Her  little  slipper  beat  the 
devil's  tattoo  on  the  oaken  boards. 

Uncle  Archie  stood  looking  at  her  until  I  felt  that  I 
must  jump  up  and  run  away.  With  fragments  of  old 
novels  drifting  through  my  mind,  I  should  not  have 
been  astonished  to  see  him  drop  upon  one  knee  and 
break  forth  into  three  pages  of  rhapsodical  declaration. 
Then,  before  I  could  gather  up  limbs  and  book  for  es- 
cape, he  seemed  to  take  hold  of  himself,  to  curb  some- 
thing that  strained  and  tore  at  the  rein.  So  tremendous 
was  the  mental  battle  that  his  bronzed  cheek  grew  sal- 


58  JUDITH: 

low,  one  big,  forked  vein  stood  out  turgidly  in  his  fore- 
head, his  hands  unclosed  and  clenched  as  in  a  spasm. 
He  swallowed  hard,  as  the  girl's  eyes  gradually  sank 
under  his  ;  wet  his  lips  with  his  tongue  before  he  spoke — 
very  quietly  and  deliberately  even  for  him,  who  was 
seldom  impulsive  or  rash  of  utterance. 

u  You  are  very  good  to  think  so  well  of  me.  But  I 
am  not  affecting  humility  when  I  say  that  my  brothers 
are  more  gifted  than  I,  intellectually.  I  liked  to  study 
when  at  school.  They  love  learning  for  its  own  sake. 
They  speak  fluently  and  effectively.  I  handle  my  mother 
tongue  with  difficulty,  and  know  no  other,  having  for- 
gotten the  little  Latin  and  less  Greek  drilled  into  me 
when  a  boy.  The  bent  of  my  mind  is  practical.  I  think 
I  shall  make,  in  time,  a  tolerable  planter.  I  could  never 
succeed  at  the  law  as  Sterling  will,  or  in  the  ministry 
as  Wythe  will,  should  he  hold  to  his  purpose  of  becom- 
ing a  preacher.  He  has  always  nursed  this  notion" — 
laughing  a  little  to  relieve  the  stiffness  both  were  be- 
ginning to  feel  and  show — "  ever  since  he  used  to  collect 
the  little  negroes  under  the  big  walnut  tree  and  preach 
to  them  against  the  sin  of  eating  clay.  For  two  centu- 
ries there  has  never  been  wanting  in  our  family  a  man 
to  stand  before  the  Lord.  Each  generation  has  had  one 
or  more  ministers  of  the  gospel." 

"  I  know  it  is  a  way  they  have  I"  She  was  fingering 
the  upper  rail  of  the  balustrade  as  she  would  a  key- 
board, gazing  into  the  distance.  "It  is  a  noble  profes- 
sion." 

"The  highest  man  can  follow,"  responded  Uncle 
Archie  as  sententiously. 

"  You  would  have  made  a  good  minister,  yet  preferred 
to  be  a  farmer  !" 

"  I  obeyed  the  call  as  I  heard  it." 

"  Ah,  well,  there  is  no  use  wishing  now,  I  suppose  1" 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  59 

She  tossed  out  both  plump  hands  with  the  action  of 
one  who  puts  aside  something  definitely  and  decidedly. 
The  sweetbrier  rose,  blown  to  the  full,  was  shaken  by 
the  motion,  and  a  rain  of  loosened  petals  fell,  unnoticed 
by  either,  among  the  strewn  jasmine  leaves. 

"Doing  is  better  than  wishing — as  a  rule,"  said 
Uncle  Archie,  still  avoiding  looking  directly  at  her — 
"  but  less  pleasant." 

His  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  pine  crown  of  the  opposite 
hill.  Their  expression  robbed  the  words  of  common- 
placeness.  Neither  of  the  twain  seemed  to  address  the 
other  in  these  latter  sentences.  I  saw  Miss  Virginia 
steal  one  look  at  him,  questioning,  pleading,  as  loath  to 
believe  herself  foiled  or  mistaken. 

A  bell  tinkled  in  the  hall,  and  I  arose  to  follow  them 
to  the  parlor.  Miss  Virginia  walked  on  to  the  open 
front  door,  paused  for  an  instant  there,  waiting  until 
Aunt  Maria  should  join  her.  The  sunlight,  creeping 
aslant  across  the  polished  floor,  struck  full  on  her  face, 
and  I  was  shocked  at  its  pallor — a  strange,  bluish  tint 
touching  her  very  lips.  Was  she  angry  with  Uncle 
Archie  ?  Had  he  wounded  her  to  the  heart  ?  She 
looked  just  as  usual  when  she  took  her  place  beside 
her  friend  in  the  silent  group  at  the  top  of  the  long 
room.  The  house-servants,  eight  in  number,  including 
Mammy  and  "Mam"  Peggy,  the  cook,  ranged  them- 
selves near  the  entrance  ;  Uncle  Archie  had  the  arm- 
chair that  had  been  his  father's.  A  round  stand  at  his 
right  hand  supported  the  Family  Bible,  the  leathern 
covers  black  with  age  and  glossed  by  handling.  His 
mother  sat  nearest  him  on  one  side,  Aunt  Betsey  next 
to  her. 

"  Looking  forth  as  the  morning,  fair  as  the  sun,  clear 
as  the  moon  !"  repeated  I,  inly,  in  surveying  them. 

Their  white  hands,  beautiful  still  in  form  and  tex- 


60  JUDITH:^ 

ture,  were  folded  upon  their  mourning-dresses.  Caps 
and  frilled  tuckers  were  pure  and  crisp.  The  sisters 
never  looked  hot  in  summer,  or  cold  in  winter.  Just 
now  their  thoughts  and  hearts  were  fixed,  their  eyes 
deep  and  clear  with  holy  calm. 

Uncle  Archie  was  not  yet  twenty-seven,  yet  no  one 
saw  incongruity  in  his  position  as  patriarch  and  priest 
of  the  household.  Sedate  beyond  his  years  with  the 
pressure  of  premature  care  and  thought-taking  for 
others,  his  mother's  strong  right  arm,  the  guardian  and 
mentor  of  three  younger  children,  he  yet  bore  himself 
with  the  chastened  reverence  of  a  youthful  disciple  in 
the  High  Presence  to  which  he  now  summoned  others. 

The  service  began  with  a  hymn,  given  out  two  lines 
at  a  time,  and  sung  by  us  all,  Mr.  Bradley  raising  and 
leading  the  tune  of  "  Mear." 

"  Lord  !  in  the  morning  Thou  shalt  hear 

My  voice  ascending  high  ; 
To  Thee  will  I  direct  my  prayer, 
To  Thee  lift  up  mine  eye." 

Aunt  Betsey  sang  tenor.  We  children  called  it  "  the 
tribble, ' '  and  were  proud  of  her  accomplishment.  It  was 
a  part  much  affected  by  musical  ladies  of  her  generation. 
At  forty,  her  voice  was  clear  and  sound.  I  never  hear 
old  "Mear,"  "St.  Anne's,"  "China,"  or  "Dundee," 
without  fancying  that  I  discern  her  bell-like  rendering  of 
the  highest  notes  of  the  staff,  the  tuneful  rise  above  the 
other  voices  of  certain  bars  in  which  she  felt  especially 
at  home,  an  occasional  holding  and  slurring  not  set 
down  in  the  score,  as  if  she  loved  some  passages  too 
well  to  let  them  go  at  once.  She  warbled  as  a  bird 
sings,  chin  and  brow  slightly  upraised,  lips  just  parted, 
eyes  steady  and  serene,  and  was  followed  at  harmonious 
distances  by  air  and  counter,  all  upborne  and  marshaled 
by  Uncle  Archie's  base,  firm  and  true  like  himself. 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  61 

It  was  the  custom  in  Presbyterian  families  to  take 
the  Bible  "in  course"  at  morning  prayers,  one  long 
chapter  or  two  short  ones  each  day,  leaving  the  se- 
lection of  the  chapter  read  at  evening  to  the  reader's 
judgment.  We  had  begun  with  Genesis  on  New  Year's 
Day.  The  nineteenth  chapter  of  Second  Kings  was  the 
portion  in  order  for  this  morning.  Uncle  Archie  read 
in  his  round,  clear  voice,  with  no  pretense  of  elocution- 
ary effect,  all  the  thirty-seven  verses.  If  there  had 
been  seventy-four  we  should  have  had  the  unabated  tale 
of  Scripture.  The  fashion  of  hanging  illuminated  texts 
on  the  walls  of  living-rooms  had  not  then  been  invented, 
but  above  the  high  mantel  of  the  dining-room  was  a 
framed  sentence  written  in  paled  ink  on  yellowing 
paper — 

"  PRATER  AND  PROVENDER  HINDER  NO  MAN'S  JOURNEY." 

Sterling  Head,  my  grandfather,  had  penned  it  in  bold, 
clerkly  characters  for  the  admonition  of  children,  ser- 
vants and  guests. 

There  was  time  for  thirty-seven-verse  Bible  readings 
and  stately-phrased  petitions  rod  well-grounded  beliefs 
in  that  age  when  sewing,  spinning,  reaping  and  thresh- 
ing were  done  by  hand.  We  hearkened,  one  and  all,  to 
the  history  of  Hezekiah's  grievous  strait  in  view  of  the 
threatened  invasion  of  the  Assyrians.  How  he  spread 
the  matter  before  the  Lord  and  received  gracious  pro- 
mises of  deliverance  ;  held  our  breaths  in  awe  and 
thankfulness  at  the  finale  in  which  was  portrayed  with 
sublime  brevity  the  overthrow  of  the  enemies  of  the 
Daughter  of  Zion,  the  blasphemers  of  the  Holy  One  of 
Israel. 

"And  it  came  to  pass  in  that  night  that  the  angel 
of  the  Lord  went  out  and  smote  in  the  camp  of  the 
Assyrians  an  hundred  fourscore  and  five  thousand  ;  and 
when  they  arose  early  in  the  morning,  behold  they  were 


62  JUDITH: 

all  dead  corpses,"  said  the  quiet,  deliberate  accents  of 
the  reader. 

The  eyes  of  all  were  riveted  upon  his  visage,  and 
while  the  words  were  passing  his  lips  a  sudden  stir  of 
breaths — not  one  of  us  moving  hand,  foot  or  head — was 
perceptible  in  the  hushed  room.  It  was,  as  I  have  said, 
a  long  parlor.  Full  white  curtains  with  knotted  fringes 
were  looped  away  from  the  windows,  of  which  there 
were  four.  Those  at  the  back  were  shaded  by  the 
piazza.  About  the  front  clambered  a  riotous  growth  of 
roses.  The  air  was  laden  with  their  breath  and  that  of 
the  lilies  banked  at  their  roots.  As  Uncle  Archie  read 
the  verse  above  quoted,  a  vagrant  pencil  of  sunlight 
pierced  the  woven  branches  and  struck  his  cheek.  It 
broadened  into  a  beam,  the  lower  part  shivering  on  his 
shoulder  and  spotting  his  gray  coat  and  vest  with  the 
blue-green  tint  that  changed  his  healthful  complexion 
to  ghastliness.  There  was  not  an  exclamation  at  the 
phenomenon.  In  profound  ignorance  of  it,  he  gave  the 
two  verses  that  remained  of  the  chapter,  closed  the 
book  upon  "  And  Esarhaddon,  his  son,  reigned  in  his 
stead,"  adjusted  the  ribbon  book-mark,  laid  the  Bible 
on  the  stand,  and  arose  to  his  feet.  The  baleful  beam 
and  blotches  quivered  and  glanced  with  the  movement, 
touching  his  hands  and  white  pantaloons,  and  when  he 
knelt,  rested  on  his  black  hair.  Peeping  between  the 
fingers  with  which  I  decorously  barred  my  face,  I  saw 
the  clustering  masses  take  on  the  greenish  lustre  of  a 
crow's  wing  as  he  began,  in  low,  measured  tones,  never 
employed  on  secular  occasions,  the  customary  formula : 

"Almighty  and  Most  Merciful  God,  our  Heavenly 
Father." 

After  that  the  power  of  listening  was  denied  to  me. 
It  was  wicked  and  without  precedent  in  a  girl  who 
knew  herself  to  be,  as  she  had  been  told  again  and 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  63 

again,  "  quite  old  enough  to  follow  in  her  heart  the  pe- 
titions offered  in  church  and  at  family  worship,"  but  I 
felt  that  I  would  rather  die  than  not  adventure  a  second 
look,  just  to  make  sure  that  I  had  not  imagined  the 
horrid  hue.  I  opened  a  wider  crack,  twisted  my  body 
slightly  to  the  left  from  my  kneeling  position  in  the 
shadow  of  Aunt  Maria's  chair.  People  took  posi- 
tions then  at  prayers  the  easiest  compatible  with  de- 
vout decorum,  for  they  were  not  to  be  varied  without 
weighty  cause  until  the  "  Amen !"  was  said.  The 
breeze  that  had  blown  aside  the  branches  was  a  smart 
puff  that  had  not  yet  died  out.  Other  streaks  and 
splashes  of  sunshine  were  playing  through  the  inter- 
stices. A  green  corona  encircled  the  mob  of  Grandma's 
cap.  Short,  crooked  rays,  like  fingers,  clutched  at 
Miss  Virginia's  shoulder.  Aunt  Betsy's  calm  profile, 
bent  upon  her  clasped  hands,  was  bathed  in  dye  as  deep 
as  the  color  of  a  robin's  egg,  with  variations  of  dull 
pea-green.  While  I  stared,  fascinated  and  horrified,  I 
saw  Miss  Virginia  lift  her  head  slowly  and  glance 
around  at  Uncle  Archie.  Then  her  dilated  eyes  swept 
the  whole  company,  and  she  shuddered  aside  from  the 
crooking  fingers,  as  if  feeling  as  well  as  seeing  them. 

I  lowered  my  hands  in  the  instinctive  desire  for  sym- 
pathy, if  I  could  not  get  reassurance.  Our  regards  met, 
asked  of  one  another,  "What  does  it  mean?"  and 
traveled  in  company  around  the  room  until  we  reached 
the  kneeling  row  of  servants.  There  we  perceived  what 
we  had  not  before  noticed  in  our  intent  observation  of 
the  semi-circle  about  the  Bible-stand,  that  the  window 
nearest  the  door  being  less  densely  overgrown  than  the 
others,  let  in  a  broader  stream  of  light.  The  white 
curtains  seemed  to  be  lined  with  green,  and  between 
them  a  peak  of  cadaverous  sunshine  was  cast  upon  the 
floor.  Eight  in  the  centre  of  this  knelt  Michael,  over  a 


64  JUDITH: 

wooden  cricket  he  had  brought  in  with  him.  Beyond 
his  kneeling  attitude  he  made  no  pretense  of  devotion. 
He  grinned  openly,  half  in  terror,  half  in  enjoyment  of 
a  novelty,  when  he  caught  our  eyes ;  his  eye-balls  rolled 
from  one  to  the  other.  Thirty  years  later  I  saw  a  Her- 
culaneum  bronze  that  brought  back  to  me  his  aspect  at 
that  instant — a  greenish-black  satyr's  head.  His  hair 
was  an  ugly  thing  to  see.  It  was  a  bushy  shock,  well 
combed  by  his  mother  within  an  hour,  and  the  light 
pierced  it  at  the  apex,  changing  it  into  the  likeness  of 
crisped  grass  writhing  in  the  heat  of  an  oven. 

*'  For  the  sake  of  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.     Amen  /" 

The  speaker  was  the  only  person  there  utterly  uncon- 
scious of  any  interruption  of  the  solemnity  of  the  ser- 
vice, yet  it  was  significant  of  the  training  and  manners 
of  the  day  that  none  of  us  hurried  the  rising  from  our 
devout  posture.  Nor  when  we  were  upright  did  any 
one  speak  for  a  moment.  "We  stood  gazing  about  us 
spell-bound  by  the  increasing  strangeness  of  the  spec- 
tacle. The  glare  and  color  were  so  much  intensified 
since  we  knelt  down  that  eyes  just  unclosed  were  imme- 
diately impressed  with  the  phenomenon. 

Mr.  Bradley  spoke  first. 

"  Let  us  see  what  this  means  1"  he  said,  walking 
quickly  to  the  front  door. 

We  trooped  after  him  into  the  porch. 

The  tranquil  landscape  I  had  seen  yesterday  afternoon 
bathed  in  sunset  smiles  lay  now  like  an  accursed  region. 
Uncle  Archie  used  to  liken  it  to  the  face  of  a  man  he  had 
once  seen  dying  of  cholera,  and  to  insist  that  hills  and 
trees  seemed  shrunken  and  drawn,  as  were  his  features. 
The  image  is  more  apt  than  any  other  I  can  summon  in 
the  recollection.  The  sun  shone  in  an  unclouded  sky. 
There  was  no  haze  about  It,  or  on  the  most  distant  hills 
visible  to  us.  The  awful  change  was  in  the  burning  disk 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  65 

itself,  or  in  the  light  emitted  by  it.  Some  declared  that 
both  were  blue,  others  that  they  were  green.  To  this 
day  the  prodigy  is  referred  to  by  eye-witnesses  of  it, 
sometimes  as  "the  blue,"  sometimes  as  "the  green 
days."  The  truth  lay  between  these  descriptions.  The 
color  changed  from  time  to  time,  at  irregularly  recur- 
rent intervals,  and  suddenly  or  gradually  with  like 
irregularity.  For  hours  of  morning,  noon  or  afternoon 
it  was  a  dingy  blue,  with  the  greenish  reflections  I 
have  mentioned  ;  again  for  whole  hours  the  more  por- 
tentous dull  green  prevailed.  At  times  both  faded  into 
milder  shades  that  promised  a  return  of  clear  light. 
The  effect  was  lugubrious  and  depressing  throughout 
the  continuance  of  what  was  esteemed  inexplicable  and 
ominous  in  the  absence  of  knowledge  of  chemical  analy* 
ses  of  sun-rays  and  scientific  acquaintance  with  the 
possible  vagaries  of  the  source  of  heat  and  radiance. 

"It  is  very  singular !"  mused  Uncle  Archie  aloud, 
after  going  out  as  far  as  the  yard  gate  to  see  if  the  tinge 
were  generally  diffused  over  heavens  and  earth. 

"  What  you  s'pose  it  means,  Mars'  Archie  ?" 

The  young  master  paused,  his  foot  on  the  bottom 
step  of  the  porch.  At  the  corner  of  the  house  nearest 
the  kitchen  were  collected  the  plantation  negroes,  fifty 
or  more  in  number.  Mothers  had  babies  in  their  arms ; 
men  had  come  in  from  the  fields  with  hoes,  scythes  and 
rakes  in  hand ;  two  or  three  sick  persons  had  arisen 
from  bed  and  dressed  hastily  in  the  first  garments  that 
came  to  hand.  The  questioner  was  an  old  man  in  the 
front  rank  of  the  affrighted  gang.  He  was  attired  in 
jacket  and  trousers  of  unbleached  cotton  homespun, 
and  his  hair  was  of  the  same  yellowish-white.  The 
ashes  of  age  and  alarm  lay  on  his  sooty  forehead  and 
cheeks. 

"It  arises  from  some  peculiar  state  of  the   atmos- 


6«  JUDITH: 

phere,  Uncle  Windsor,"  returned  Uncle  Archie  lightly. 
"It  will  probably  pass  away  in  a  little  while." 

"You  don't  s'pose,  den,"  tentatively,  "dat  it's  one 
o'  dem  signs  in  de  heaven  above  dat 's  to  come  'pon  de 
nations  o'  de  yearth,  sah,  befo'  de  Las'  Day  ?" 

"  I  have  no  idea  that  it  means  anything  of  the  kind, 
my  good  friend,"  in  the  same  tone  of  easy  good  nature. 

"Nor  de  token  o'  some  heavy  jedgment  dat 's  goin' 
for  to  fall  'pon  some  folks  somewhar,  sah  ?  Same-like 
de  tower  o'  Silly  um,  dat  mashed  eighteen  ?"  the  man 
drew  nearer  to  say. 

A  low  chorus  of  groans  and  "um-7m?ns/"  from  the 
women  ensued  upon  this  erudite  query.  The  signs  of 
gathering  excitement  did  not  escape  the  master's  no- 
tice. He  glanced  somewhat  sternly  at  the  palpitating 
throng,  but  his  smile  and  voice  were  unchanged. 

"  The  Lord  writes  His  prophecies  in  plainer  print  than 
that,  Uncle  Windsor,"  waving  his  hand  toward  the  sky. 
"  He  tells  us  that  when  He  posts  notices  and  puts  up 
sign-boards  for  us  there  will  be  no  danger  of  misunder- 
standing them ;  that  '  the  wayfaring  man,  though  a 
fool,  may  not  err  therein,  and  he  that  runs  may  read. ' ' 

The  old  man,  privileged  by  age  beyond  the  rank  and 
file  of  his  fellows,  shook  his  head. 

"  But  ain't  we  tole  too,  sah,  dat  in  order  to  read  'em, 
we  mus'  hav  de  applyin'  eye  an'  de  seein'  ear  an'  de 
willin'  heart  ?  'Twon't  do  to  trabbel  through  de 
yearth  like  moles,  Mars'  Archie,  nor  yit  like  bats,  dat 
shets  dey  eyes  an'  goes  to  sleep  in  a  holler  tree  soon  's 
de  sun  gits  up.  What  you  think  we  all  better  do  'bout 
dis  yer'  'sturbance  of  de  iliments  ?" 

He,  too,  waved  his  hand  upward,  but  oratorically. 

The  smile  was  a  pleasant  laugh. 

"  I  am  going  in  to  breakfast.  Those  of  you  who 
have  had  yours  may  stop  at  the  cider-press  for  a  drink 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  67 

as  you  go  back  to  work.  You,  Uncle  Windsor,  can 
step  to  the  kitchen  and  tell  Mam  Peggy  to  give  you  a 
dup  of  coffee.  Then  take  a  comfortable  smoke  out 
there  in  the  shade.  Have  you  any  tobacco  ?" 

"We  teas  a-thinkin'  o'  holdin'  an  all-day  pra'r- 
meetin'  sah,"  continued  the  spokesman,  apparently 
deaf  to  the  tempting  suggestions.  "  ef  so  be  de  wrath 
o'  de  Almighty  mought  be  turn'  away,  an'  His  fiery 
'dignation  be  drawed  back  into  Heaven.  For  I  been 
hear  dat  de  Good  Book  say,  my  young  marster,  how 
in  dat  day  shall  de  sun  be  darken'  an'  de  moon  shell 
not  give  her  light,  an'  de  stars  shell  drap  'pon  de 
yearth,  same  like  de  'timely  figs  is  shook  off  by  de  win'. 
'Pears  like  I  ken  see  mos'  all  dem  things  dis  bery  day," 
falling  into  the  sing-song  of  the  negro  exhorter;  "an' 
what  dey  say  to  one  dey  say  to  all,  young  an'  old,  bon' 
an'  free,  '  Prepar'  to  meet  de  Lord  at  His  comin' ! 
Turn  to  de  Lord  an'  make  his  parths  straight,  an'  far 
yo'  hearts  an'  not  yo'  guarments  !'  It 's  sech  a  day  as 
you  think  not  maybe,  Mars'  Archie  !" 

An  outburst  of  sighs,  shrill  groans  and  sobs  from  the 
women  behind  him  was  waxing  into  the  swinging  hum, 
like  an  inarticulate  chant,  common  to  the  race  in  sea- 
sons of  religious  fervor,  when  Uncle  Archie  turned 
about  sharply. 

"None  of  that,  there!"  he  said,  authoritatively. 
"Eight  hundred  and  thirt}T-one  years  ago,  one  thou- 
sand years  after  the  birth  of  our  Saviour,  people  got 
the  idea  into  their  heads  that  the  end  of  the  world  was 
at  hand.  They  held  all-day  prayer-meetings  by  the 
month,  and  repented  and  cried  and  waited  for  the  sound 
of  the  trumpet  until  the  fields  they  had  not  planted  were 
high  with  weeds,  and  there  was  no  bread  to  put  into 
their  children's  mouths.  Thousands  starved  to  death. 
Now,  hear  me  I  I  mean  that  the  work  of  this  planta- 


68  JUDITH: 

tion  shall  go  on  as  long  as  there  is  light  enough  to  show 
the  difference  between  cotton  and  tobacco,  and  for  you 
to  see  the  rows  of  corn.  What  concern  would  it  be  of 
yours  if  the  sun  should  turn  as  blue  as  indigo  !  Leave 
all  that  to  One  wiser  and  mightier  than  we  are,  and  be 
off  to  your  business  every  one  of  you  !  If  I  were  sure 
that  this  was  the  last  day  of  the  world  I  could  give  you 
no  better  advice  than  to  do  the  day's  work  better  than 
ever  before.  I  can  repeat  Scripture,  too,  Uncle  Wind- 
sor, and  I  remember  that  the  Wise  Man  said,  '  What- 
soever thy  hand  findeth  to  do,  do  it  with  thy  might'.''  " 

An  expressive  gesture  in  the  direction  of  kitchen  and 
quarters  was  the  signal  of  dispersion.  The  crowd 
melted  quietly  away.  In  less  than  a  minute  the  party 
on  the  porch  were  left  to  themselves.  Uncle  Archie 
mounted  the  steps. 

"  Is  breakfast  ready,  mother  ?" 

He  wiped  his  forehead,  moved  and  spoke  as  one 
weary  or  harassed. 

Miss  Virginia  pinched  my  arm  as  Grandma  led  the 
way  to  the  dining-room. 

"Wasn't  he  splendid?"  she  whispered.  "For  all 
that — I  don't  dare  let  him  know  it — but  I  'm  scared  out 
of  my  senses  I  I  do  believe  that  something  is  going  to 
happen  1" 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  69 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  chariot  of  learning  drove  heavily  that  day.  Our 
school-house  was  "the  office,  "a  small  frame  building 
in  a  clump  of  locust  trees  near  the  garden  paling.  Be- 
sides Uncle  "Wythe  and  myself  there  were  eight  pupils 
— four  boys  and  as  many  girls — who  came  over  every 
morning  from  neighboring  plantations  to  enjoy  the 
privilege  of  study  under  the  Summerfield  tutor. 

The  teachers  employed  by  the  Beads  had  had  a 
somewhat  remarkable  record.  Dr.  Conrad  Speece,  ac 
intimate  friend  of  my  grandmother,  had  called  thai 
one-roomed  house  under  the  locusts  "  the  nursery  o: 
the  Presbyterian  clergy  in  Virginia,"  so  many  theo 
logical  students  had  made  it  the  half-way  station  to  tin 
exercise  of  their  sacred  calling,  earning  by  teaching  for 
a  year  or  more  the  means  with  which  to  complete  their 
scholastic  course.  It  was  generally  conceded  that  the 
advantages  of  the  position  were  extraordinary.  Mort 
than  one,  or  half  a  dozen  eminent  divines  freely  ac- 
knowledged their  obligations  to  the  queen  of  this  little 
realm  for  benefits  college  and  seminary  could  not  give 
From  the  riches  of  her  motherliness  she  fed  their  bodies 
and  hearts.  Through  her  gentlehood  she  refined  them. 
Out  of  the  hid  treasures  of  her  Christian  experience  she 
furnished  them  for  the  life-work  she  dignified  in  their 
sight  as  the  commission  in  the  service  of  her  King. 

Mr.  Bradley  was  a  student  of  law,  not  divinity,  an-i 
a  graduate  of  Yale.  He  had  come  to  Virginia  and  to 
Summerfield  at  the  beginning  of  this  year,  recom- 
mended to  my  grandmother's  good  will  by  Dr.  John  B 


70  JUDITH: 

Rice,  whose  praise  was  in  all  the  churches  as  a  man  of 
learning,  zeal  and  piety.  The  tutor  was  of  totally 
different  type  from  his  predecessors,  but  not  one  of 
them  had  won  so  distinguished  a  place  in  the  favor  of 
family  and  neighbors  nor  one  showed  more  grateful  ap- 
preciation of  his  incorporation  as  a  part  of  the  household. 

He  sat,  on  the  first  of  the  discolored  days,  in  the  arm- 
chair used  by  a  long  succession  of  tutors,  a  desk  of 
equal  antiquity  at  his  elbow.  A  window  at  his  other 
hand  opened  into  a  branchy  nectarine  tree.  We  were 
ranged  on  backless  benches  about  him.  Five  double 
desks  of  unpainted  pine,  browned  by  time,  notched, 
hacked,  scratched  and  ink-spotted,  were  behind  us 
when  we  faced  him  for  recitation.  While  ciphering, 
writing  and  studying,  we  had  bent  over  them  before  his 
induction  into  office.  He  was  the  first  tutor  who  in- 
sisted that  we  should  sit  straight  and  also  hold  heads 
up  and  shoulders  back  in  walking.  His  own  carriage 
was  singularly  graceful  and  his  person  pleasing.  Not 
so  tall  as  Uncle  Archie,  he  was  more  lithe,  so  erect  in 
figure  and  elastic  in  step  that  he  had  the  appearance  of 
equal  height.  His  hair  was  brown,  as  were  his  expres- 
sive eyes ;  his  nose  was  straight,  with  thin,  flexible 
nostrils ;  the  mouth  fine  and  sensitive,  the  lips  parting 
readily  in  smiles  over  white,  regular  teeth  ;  there  was  a 
cleft  in  his  chin  and  a  hint  of  waviness  in  the  hair. 

I  should  be  conversant  with  all  these  particulars, 
having  sketched  his  profile  on  stray  bits  of  paper  and 
copy-book  covers  on  an  average  ten  times  a  week  for 
ten  months.  I  can  imagine  now  that  he  may  have 
looked  in  that  dingy  school-room  and  among  its  clumsy, 
homely  furnishings  like  a  vase  of  choicest  faience  doing 
duty  as  a  kitchen  ewer.  No  one  perceived  the  incon- 
gruity while  he  filled  the  post.  We  were  used  to  seeing 
men  of  noblest  scholarship  in  the  pulpits  of  churches 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  7? 

that  had  known  neither  painter's  brush  nor  carver's 
tool,  the  pews  of  which  were  without  cushions  and  the 
aisles  carpetless.  Men  who  had  stood  before  kings  and 
held  sway  in  governmental  councils  walked  the  bare 
floors  of  hereditary  halls  with  the  courtly  bearing 
learned  in  the  minuet  and  practiced  in  foreign  salons, 
vaulted  to  the  saddle  and  rode  in  knightly  fashion  that 
recalled  Sir  Launcelot  and  the  Black  Prince.  Never  a 
word  or  look  on  Mr.  Bradley 's  part  evinced  that  there 
was  aught  novel  in  all  this  to  his  apprehension ;  still 
less  that  he  was  surprised  at  the  cordiality,  unalloyed 
by  patronage,  extended  to  himself  by  the  best  people  in 
the  county.  He  was  a  gentleman — ingrain.  That 
was  enough.  Had  he  been  personally  less  attractive 
he  would  still  have  been  entitled  to  courteous  treat- 
ment as  a  recognized  part  of  the  Summerfield  famity. 
There  was  no  question  of  condescension  on  one  side  or 
of  humility  on  the  other. 

He  was  especially  benignant  and  companionable  on 
this  dreary  forenoon.  It  is  superfluous  to  mention  that 
he  had  not  a  single  perfect  lesson  from  the  shivering 
wretches  who  essayed  to  recite  the  tasks  conned  over 
night.  Those  who  had  gone  to  bed  knowing  every  line 
and  word  and  slept  the  sleep  of  the  well-doer  fared  no 
better  than  the  rest.  The  altered  face  of  Nature  made 
dunces  of  us  all.  We  could  not  have  mustered  two 
whole  ideas  among  us  unless  allowed  to  exchange  confi- 
dences upon  the  mutations  of  the  horrible  garb  cast 
about  the  outer  world.  The  very  tree  we  had  watched 
day  by  day,  each  between  his  or  her  "  turns  "  in  geog- 
raphy, history  and  dictionary  lessons  until  we  knew 
ever}7  glossy  leaf  as  well  as  we  had  known  every  curve 
and  knot  of  naked  boughs  and  twigs  in  winter  time, 
could  have  told  the  exact  number  of  ripening  nectarines 
in  July  and  the  now  useless  stalks  where  these  had  hung 


72  JUDITH: 

— even  this  familiar  friend  wore  a  jaundiced  and  for* 
bidding  aspect.  The  brown  bark  was  edged  with  faint 
blue  films,  as  if  seen  through  a  prism  ;  the  foliage  was 
of  a  uniform  and  disagreeable  color,  and  hung  heavily 
motionless  as  noon  drew  near.  Cicada  and  tree-toad 
were  mute.  The  grasshopper's  rattle  and  whirr  in  the 
sun-parched  sward  that  had  grated  on  our  ears  yester- 
day would  have  been  welcome  in  the  dead  stillness  of  a 
sickly  earth  fainting  under  the  eye  of  a  sickly  sun. 

I  bore  it  without  outcry,  but  w'i;h  sinking  heart, 
chilled  hands  and  feet,  until  it  was  almost  time  for 
recess — "intermission,"  Mr  Bradley  taught  us  to 
term  it,  instead  of  "play-time."  Then,  when  the  be- 
thumbed  and  smeared  slate,  filled  on  one  side  with  my 
trial-sum  in  long  division,  was  given  back  to  me  with  a 
reluctant,  "  You  had  better  try  it  once  more,  Judith," 
pronounced  in  the  tutor's  gentlest  voice,  I  burst  into  a 
passion  of  sobs. 

"My  dear  little  scholar!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Bradley, 
"I  did  not  scold.  I  do  not  wonder  that  you  did  not 
get  it  right  the  first  time,  nor  that  you  do  not  feel  like 
studying  to-day.  Everything  will  come  straight  to- 
morrow." 

I  had  heard  him  say  it  scores  of  times,  for  his  was  a 
cheerful  philosophy  that  never  faltered.  Now  it  failed 
to  console  me.  The  emotions  and  events  of  the  past 
twenty-four  hours  had  worn  my  nerves  to  the  raw 
quick.  I  could  not  check  my  tears ;  and  Elvira  Clarke, 
a  delicate  girl  of  fourteen,  began  to  snivel  behind  her 
handkerchief  in  sympathy. 

"The  school  is  dismissed!"  said  the  teacher,  and 
when  the  rest  had  gone,  picked  me  up  in  his  arms  and 
ran  across  the  yard  to  Uncle  Archie's  room. 

It  was  on  the  first  floor,  and  in  the  wing  adjoining 
his  mother's  apartment — "the  chamber,"  as  it  was 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  73 

called  in  country  houses.  Here  we  were  sure  to  find 
the  ladies  of  the  household,  with  one  or  two  colored 
seamstresses  at  this  hour  of  the  day.  Uncle  Archie 
had  not  returned  from  his  morning  round  of  the  plan- 
tation, as  my  bearer  knew.  He  carried  me  around  by 
a  side  door  into  the  quiet  room,  laid  me  on  the  bed,  and 
went  to  look  for  fresh  water  and  Aunt  Maria.  It  was 
natural  for  hurt  and  troubled  things  to  turn  to  her.  I 
was  clutching  at  m}'  throat  when  he  returned  with 
her — sitting  upright,  because  I  feared  to  choke  to  death 
if  I  lay  down,  too  much  terrified  at  my  own  sensations 
to  think  of  what  had  induced  the  seizure.  Aunt  Maria 
had  brought  the  invariable  hartshorn  and  administered 
a  few  drops.  The  faith  that  possessed  my  soul  at  her 
quiet  assertion,  "  It  will  do  you  good  I"  would  have  de- 
fied the  malignant  operation  of  prussic  acid.  I  hardly 
felt  the  tingle  of  the  ammonia  on  tongue  and  throat ; 
held  out  my  arms  to  be  taken  into  her  lap,  and  clung  to 
her  in  the  blind  persuasion  that  I  was  safer  there  than 
anywhere  else,  were  this  indeed  the  crack  of  doom. 

"iN'ow,"  said  Mr.  Bradley,  sitting  down  in  front  of 
us,  as  we  rocked  slowly  in  Uncle  Archie's  one  easy- 
chair,  "let  us  reason  together  about  this  mighty  matter. 
Was  it  long  division,  or  Uncle  Windsor's  raw-head-and- 
bloody-bones  talk,  or  Old  Sol's  blue  goggles  that  upset 
you  ?" 

I  perpetrated  something  between  a  giggle  and  a  gulp. 

"  I  don't  exactly  know,  sir ;  only" — the  tears  stream- 
ing anew — "  the  world  is  all  spoiled !" 

I  hid  my  face  on  Aunt  Maria's  shoulder.  She  laid 
her  cool,  smooth  cheek  to  my  hot  forehead. 

"That  is  a  great  mistake,  dear,"  she  said.  "God 
does  not  ruin  things  that  belong  to  Him  I" 

"  He  will  burn  the  earth  up  some  day— maybe  very 
soon  I"  I  protested. 


74  JUDITH: 

"  That  new  heavens  and  a  new  earth — ever  so  much 
better  than  these — may  take  their  place." 

"Listen,  Judith!"  Mr.  Bradley  took  my  hand. 
"  You  believe  in  the  Bible,  don't  you,  no  matter  how 
blue  in  the  face  the  sun  may  turn  ?" 

"Of  course  I  do!" 

"Then,  when  we  read  there  that  the  Gospel  is  to  be 
preached  to  all  nations  before  the  end  of  the  world,  is 
it  worth  while  to  be  frightened  to  death  at  changes  in 
the  color  of  the  air  ?  Be  reasonable  !" 

I  cannot  remember  the  time  when  the  dread  of  a 
nearing  Judgment  Day  was  not  a  part  of  my  daily 
thinking  and  expectation.  It  entered  so  largely  into 
the  sermons  of  the  period,  into  the  prayers,  exhorta- 
tions and  hymns  of  the  negroes,  that  every  act  and 
scene  of  the  Divine  Tragedy  were  fixed  in  my  mind. 
At  awakening  in  the  morning  I  said  to  myself,  "  It  may 
come  before  night;"  after  my  evening  prayer,  "The 
last  trumpet  may  sound  before  it  is  light."  A  cloud  of 
unusual  form  and  color  had  thrown  me  into  a  violent  fit 
of  shivering,  the  cause  of  which  I  was  ashamed  to  own ; 
a  lurid  or  brassy  sunset  robbed  me  of  appetite  and 
sleep.  Uncle  "Windsor,  deprived  of  the  gloomy  delecta- 
tions of  the  all-day  prayer-meeting,  had  found  partial 
compensation  in  sitting  on  the  kitchen  steps  and  croon- 
ing in  a  cracked,  wheezy  voice : 

"  Oh,  there  will  be  mou'nin',  mou'nin',  mou'nin', 

At  the  jedgment-seat  o'  Christ  I 
Parents  an'  chillen  thar  will  part, 
Parents  an'  chillen  thar  will  part, 
Parents  an'  chillen  thar  mus'  part, 

Mus'  part  to  meet  no  mo '." 

And  so  on  through  "brothers  an'  sisters,"  " Men's  an' 
neighbors,"  "pastors  an'  people  " — I  am  not  sure  but 
uncles  and  nephews.  There  were  at  least  a  dozen 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  75 

verses,  and  when  he  had  sung  to  the  end,  he  straightway 
began  again  with  "parents  an'  chillen."  The  other 
servants  had  caught  his  mood.  While  Mr.  Bradley 
urged  me  to  be  reasonable,  Becky,  the  laundress,  scrub- 
bing away  at  the  tubs  under  the  aspen  trees  back  of  the 
smoke-house,  upraised,  in  a  voice  that  made  her  a 
power  in  negro  convocations,  a  wild  melody  which 
swept  every  word  to  our  ears : 

"  You  may  bury  me  in  de  eas', 
You  may  bury  me  in  de  wes', 
But  I  '11  hear  dat  trumpet  soun'  in  de  mornin'. 
My  ears  may  change  to  clay, 
An'  my  tongue  be  wast1  away, 
But  I  '11  answer  dat  trumpet  in  de  mornin'. 
In  de  mornin',  in  de  mornin',  in  de  mornin'  ob  de  Lord — 
Ah,  we  '11  all  be  togedder  in  de  mornin' !" 

It  was  not  strange  that  the  birds  refused  to  sing  that 
cUy  with  these  canticles  of  woe  jarring  the  drooping 
leaves — a  Dutch  concert  of  distressful  discord. 

I  sat  up  straight  on  my  aunt's  lap,  my  eyes  suddenly 
dried. 

"  I  never  thought  of  that.  May  I  tell  them  all  ?  And 
where  is  it  ?" 

Smiling  at  the  success  of  his  rwse,  he  took  a  Bible 
from  the  table  and  put  it  into  my  hand,  pointing  silently 
to  Matthew  xxiv :  14.  I  took  in  the  verse  as  by  instinct, 
and  darted  from  the  room,  bearing  the  book  with  me. 
By  dinner-time  I  had  read  the  comforting  prophecy  to 
all  my  schoolfellows,  to  the  kitchen-cabinet  and  at  the 
quarters,  with  the  same  quality  if  not  degree  of  eager- 
ness with  which  I  would  have  borne  to  each  a  reprieve 
on  the  scaffold. 

My  auditors  received  it  with  varieties  of  character- 
istic emotion.  The  scholars  ate  their  "  snacks  "  with 
revived  relish,  and  forthwith  got  out  the  foot-balls,  mar- 
bles and  "checks  "-blanket  they  had  not  had  spirits  to 


76  JUDITH: 

produce  before.  Two  or  three  who  had  preferred  re* 
maining  in  the  school-room  to  read  their  Bibles,  shut 
them  up  with  alacrity  upon  raggedly-torn  scraps  of 
paper  inserted  at  the  passage  I  had  revealed  to  them, 
and  ran  to  join  the  sports. 

"  Take  keer,  chile  !"  said  Mam  Peggy  testily,  when  I 
would  have  forced  her  to  look  at  the  verse.  "Mars' 
Archie  done  tole  us  dat  de  wuk  is  to  be  done,  Resurrec- 
tion or  no  Resurrection !  How  I  gwine  to  get  dinner  ef 
you  will  poke  books  under  my  nose  ?  You  '11  drap  dat 
Bible  in  de  pot-liquor,  mun'  "  (short  for  "if  you  don't 
mind  ").  "  An'  dar  's  sayin's  in  dar  dat  'd  make  it  hot- 
ter 'n  pepper-tea  befo'  you  could  fish  de  Word  o'  Life 
outen  it !" 

This  was  ungrateful,  but  nothing  in  comparison  with 
Uncle  Windsor's  grumblings  at  my  interruption  of  his 
ditty. 

"  Go  'long,  Miss  Judy !  Think  I  ain't  been  hear  dat 
fifty  times  befo'  you  was  born  ?  Dar 's  ways  o'  gittin' 
'roun'  mos'  hard  Scripter  ef  ennybody  wants  ter.  An' 
dar 's  plenty  things  wuss  dan  de  worl'  burnin'  up  out 
an'  out.  What  I  done  say,  an'  what  I  say  now,  no 
marter  what  Mars'  Archie  an'  forrard  chillen  think  " — 
severely  sarcastic  in  the  classification — "  is  jes'  dis  one 
bit  o'  'flamrnation  " — he  raised  his  quavering  tones  for 
the  benefit  of  cook,  laundress,  butler,  scullion  and  five 
or  six  loungers  about  the  kitchen  door — "  dat  'ar'  sign 
ain't  Beared  for  nothin"1 !  De  Almighty  don't  frow  'way 
His  blue  fire,  dat  'ar'  way  !  Dar  's  brimstone  an'  wrath 
an'  warnin'  in  sech  a  broad  blaze  as  dis.  I  ain't  got 
nary  word  mo'  to  say.  When  de  jedgment  begins  at 
de  House  o'  Israel,  you  '11  maybe  b'ar  ole  Windsor's 
langidge  in  min'  1  All  ole  folks  ain't  fools,  for  all  Mars' 
Archie's  argerin'  an'  chillen's  lamin'  I" 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  77 

The  day  wore  on  to  a  dingy-purple  sunsetting  behind 
olive-green  hills — a  dreary  ending.  Fairly  tired  out 
with  agitation,  I  fell  asleep  earlier  than  usual.  It  was 
midnight  when  I  awoke  and  slipped  out  of  hed  to  see  if 
the  moon  reflected  the  changed  complexion  of  the 
greater  luminary.  She  swam  above  the  walnut  boughs 
in  a  bath  of  crystalline  ether,  and  the  earth,  liberated 
from  the  unholy  spell  of  the  day,  sent  up  gentle  mur- 
murings  of  drowsy  content.  Dewy  zephyrs  wandered 
among  the  flowers ;  there  was  the  sound  of  a  going, 
like  the  patter  of  innumerable  tiny  feet  in  the  poplar 
tops  ;  the  aspens  granted  to  the  breeze  coy  glimpses  of 
the  silver  lining  of  their  leaves  ;  mother  birds  addressed 
little  notes  of  tender  interrogation  to  their  young,  and 
called  across  intervening  rifts  in  the  foliage  to  their 
neighbors,  probably  exchanging  congratulations  upon 
the  restoration  of  order  and  seemliuess  in  their  world. 

1  knelt  on  the  floor,  my  elbows  crossed  on  the  win- 
dow-sill, and  drank  in  peace  as  from  a  living  fountain. 
The  placidity  of  the  fair  moonlight  steeped  me,  body  and 
spirit.  The  white  beams  were  a  personal  boon.  I 
recalled  Aunt  Maria's  saying — "God  does  not  ruin 
things  that  belong  to  Him" — in  looking  up  at  the  kindly 
stars.  I  think  I  speak  truly  in  declaring  that  I  had 
never  before,  since  my  unconscious  infancy,  gazed  upon 
the  mighty  vault  of  the  nocturnal  heavens  without  a 
thrill  of  awesome  fear.  The  stillness  and  expanse  of 
the  star-sown  depths  excited  thoughts  of  my  chief  dread 
--the  day  when  time  should  be  no  more.  Aunt  Maria, 
from  the  wealth  of  her  hymnology,  had  taught  me  that 
these  sparkling  worlds  are 

"  Forever  singing,  as  they  shine, 
The  hand  that  made  us  is  divine  I" 

I  had  read  for  myself,  and  remembered  more  vividly, 


78  JUDITH: 

another  hymn,  the  majestic  measures  of  Scott's  trans- 
lation,— 

"  When  quivering,  like  a  parched  scroll, 
The  flaming  heavens  together  roll," — 

and  experienced  delicious,  agonizing  shivers  along 
spinal  column  and  scalp  in  singing  it  (to  the  tune  of 
Old  Hundred)  in  the  out-door  "preachings"  I  held 
with  the  negro  children  on  Sunday  afternoons.  I  had 
a  realistic  picture  in  my  imagination  of  the  Hand  that 
should  roll  up  the  sky — as  I  had  seen  Uncle  Archie 
handle  writing-paper — then  kindle  the  scroll  in  the  fairy 
breath  of  divine  wrath,  and  apply  to  the  doomed  earth. 

The  dear  earth  that  was  not  to  be  destroyed  yet — 
perhaps  not  until  I  was  quite  an  old  woman,  and  some- 
what weary  of  mundane  things.  The  progress  of 
missions  was  slow.  I  am  afraid  I  said  "  delightfully 
slow."  I  knew  the  Missionary  Hymn  by  heart,  of 
course ;  but  as  I  pondered,  I  concluded  it  might  be 
well  to  exempt  mentally  one  little  South  Sea  island — 
an  unimportant  Z oar — from  the  "spread  from  pole  to 
pole,"  a  saving  clause  that  might  postpone  indefinitely 
the  coming  of  the  "morning,"  sung  by  Becky,  and  the 
"mourning"  Uncle  "Windsor  anticipated  with  ghoulish 
delight. 

When  I  grew  sleepy,  and  cramped  with  kneeling,  I 
crept  back  to  my  trundle-bed,  pausing  at  Aunt  Maria's 
pillow  to  look  at  the  sweet  pale  face,  and  to  think  how 
dearly,  dearly  I  loved  her,  and  how  good  she  was  I 

Mammy  awoke  me  with  the  information  that  I  had 
just  time  to  dress  for  prayers.  I  raised  my  head  in 
instant  recollection  of  yesterday's  alarm.  Aunt  Maria 
had  gone  down-stairs,  the  windows  were  all  open,  and 
through  those  that  faced  the  east  two  parallelograms 
of  livid  green  were  cast  into  the  chamber,  one  upon 
the  floor,  the  other  across  Aunt  Maria's  white  bed. 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  79 

We  had  three  blue-green  days,  a  fourth  more  faintly 
tinged  ;  on  the  fifth  the  sun  arose  brilliantly  clear  and 
scorching  hot.  The  colorless  glare  was  accepted  by  all 
as  a  gracious  gift  from  Heaven.  At  prayers  Uncle 
Archie  returned  thanks,  in  terms  well-chosen  and  suc- 
cinct, for  the  "blessings  of  the  light,  and  the  sure 
promise  that,  while  the  earth  remaineth,  seed-time  and 
harvest,  and  cold  and  heat,  and  summer  and  winter, 
and  day  and  night,  shall  not  cease." 

At  sunset  on  the  third  day,  after,  as  we  phrased  it, 
"  everything  had  come  right  again,"  Mr.  Bradley  read 
to  us  on  the  back  porch  a  paper  descriptive  of  the 
phenomenon  he  had  prepared  for  a  Northern  journal. 
It  was  truthful  and  graphic. 

"Nobody  could  have  done  it  better,"  decided  Aunt 
Betsey,  nodding  satisfiedly  ;  "  and  it  will  be  even  more 
interesting  in  print.  There  is  a  something  in  a  printed 
page  that  manuscript  never  has — a  sort  of  smoothing 
out  and  setting  straight  that  is  like  magic." 

Uncle  Archie  stood  facing  the  front  hall  and  door, 
and  now  started  forward  with  a  hospitable  smile  and 
extended  hand.  A  martial  tread  rang  on  the  floor  and 
a  visitor  appeared  among  us.  A  tall  man  of  sixty  or 
thereabouts,  with  grizzled  hair  and  whiskers,  a  long 
face,  squared  in  the  lower  jaw,  deep-set,  piercing  eyes, 
a  large  mouth  and  florid  color.  In  walking  he  stooped 
very  slightly.  He  stood  erect,  a  commanding  figure. 
He  wore  high-top  boots,-  white  pantaloons,  buff  vest, 
and  a  scarlet  frock-coat  of  military  cut,  fastened  at  the 
waist  by  two  buttons,  flaring  open  above  to  show  a 
padded  chest  and  ruffled  shirt-front.  In  the  left  hand 
he  held  a  planter's  straw  hat  and  riding-whip.  The 
right  he  offered  to  my  grandmother,  bending  low  above 
the  soft,  fair  fingers  placed  within  it. 

"I  hope  I  have  the  happiness  of  seeing  you  quite 


80  JUDITH: 

well,  my  dear  madame !  Mrs.  Waddell,  I  am  the  hum- 
blest of  your  servants  !  Miss  Maria,  I  am  rejoiced  to 
see  that  the  changing  skies  have  not  dimmed  your 
smiles  I" 

"Miss  Dabney,"  said  Grandma,  whose  courtesy  was 
ever  opportune,  never  officious,  "allow  me  to  present 
our  neighbor,  Captain  Macon." 

The  guest  laid  his  hand  on  his  heart  in  a  bow  that, 
even  then,  when  men  knew  how  to  make  obeisance  to 
gentlewomen,  was  remarkable  for  grace  and  expression. 

"  My  dear  young  lady,  I  am  the  friend  of  your  father. 
I  can  say  nothing  more  to  a  daughter." 

The  girl  had  arisen  as  her  name  was  spoken,  and  now 
swept  him  a  deep  courtesy,  her  color  rising  beautifully, 
her  eyes  glowing  softly. 

"I  am  very  happy  to  meet  one  of  whom  my  father 
speaks  so  often  and  affectionately." 

So  engaging  was  her  modest  readiness  of  reply,  her 
deferential  demeanor  touched  with  cordiality  that  was 
what  flavor  and  perfume  are  to  the  downy  ripeness  of 
the  peach,  that  I  glanced  involuntarily  at  Uncle  Archie 
for  sympathy  in  my  admiration.  His  face  was  turned 
from  me,  but  I  saw  Mr.  Bradley 's  sudden,  slight  smile 
— his  look  at  the  young  lady.  This  was  the  sort  of 
thing  that  would  please  him,  I  thought.  He  was  him- 
self apt  in  repartee,  alert  with  civility. 

Captain  Macon  drew  a  chair  to  the  side  of  his  friend's 
daughter,  questioned  her  as  to  her  father's  health  and 
spirits,  and  hoped,  in  due  stateliness  of  phrase,  that  she 
would  continue  the  blessing  of  her  presence  to  our 
neighborhood  until  Major  Dabney  should  come  in  per- 
son to  recall  her. 

"  We  were  brothers  in  arms  and  in  heart  throughout 
the  War  of  1812  ;  but  we  were  comrades  in  our  boy- 
hood— playfellows  at  school  and  chums  at  William  and 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  81 

Mary  College.  I  regret  extremely  that  the  absence  of 
my  daughters  at  the  White  Sulphur  Springs  has  de- 
prived them  of  the  pleasure  of  your  acquaintance  and 
me  of  the  honor  of  welcoming  you  where  your  father 
has  always  been  a  dear  and  honored  guest — in  my  own 
house  at  Hunter's  Rest.  My  sons,  I  am  glad  to  know, 
have  had  the  privilege  of  paying  their  respects  to  you. 
That  I  have  not  done  so  ere  this  has  been  my  grievous 
misfortune.  A  multiplication  of  engagements  and  hin- 
drances has  conspired  to  deprive  me  of  a  coveted  plea- 
sure." 

"At  our  age,  Captain  Macon,  we  may  surely  expect 
indulgence  of  social  shortcomings  at  the  hands  of 
young  people,"  remarked  Grandma. 

"  It  is  not,  madame,  that  I  question  Miss  Dabney's 
tenderness  of  compassion  or  her  generosity.  I  am  re- 
gretting my  own  loss.  The  more  " — another  bow — 
"  since  meeting  her." 

He  adroitly  passed  from  this  complimentary  strain  to 
the  solar  eccentricities  we  had  lately  observed — "  opined 
that  scientific  investigations  would  shortly  analyze  and 
elucidate  the  causes  thereof,  demonstrating  these  to 
have  been  natural  and  in  no  wise  extraordinary." 

"You  do  not  regard  them  as  supernatural  portents, 
then  ?"  smiled  Aunt  Betsey.  "  Uncle  Windsor  and  his 
disciples  class  them  with  the  comet  that  hung  over 
Jerusalem  and  the  eclipse  of  the  sun  last  February,  and 
interpret  them  as  signs  and  warnings." 

The  Captain  switched  his  left  foot  smartly  with  his 
riding-whip  ;  his  jaws  grew  squarer. 

"  There  is  no  more  monstrous  obstacle  to  human  pro- 
gress and  human  happiness  than  the  imbecility  of 
superstition,"  he  said,  oracularly.  "Notably  the  su- 
perstition of  ignorance.  The  dies  irce  of  our  land — if 
Divine  Providence" — a  reverent  inclination  of  the  head 


82  JUDITH: 

— '"hath  appointed  such  unto  us — is  foretold  in  three 
words,  to  wit,  'the  uneducated  masses.'  The  only  in- 
tellectual stimulus  of  these  is  vulgar  curiosity,  which 
begets  a  love  for  the  vivid  and  startling.  This  appetite 
will  have  food.  Kather  than  hunger  it  will  pursue  and 
slay  its  own  game.  Once  thus  supplied,  appetite  be- 
comes passion,  such  lust  for  prey  as  worked  the  guil- 
lotine by  a  million-fiend  blood  power  in  the  French 
Revolution.  This  is  the  key  to  most  of  the  wrongfully 
denominated  '  struggles  for  freedom. '  If 

'  Who  rules  freemen  should  himself  be  free ' 
be  true,  it  is  also  patent  to  every  candid  apprehension 
that  only  the  liberal,  intelligent  mind  can  so  far  recog- 
nize and  value  the  blessings  of  liberty  as  to  peril  life  to 
acquire  it." 

"  You  would  then  consider  most  popular  rebellions  as  a 
kind  of '  Folio w-your-leader '  game  ?"  said  Uncle  Archie. 

"Nothing  more,  sir!  nothing  more!  when  the  up- 
rising is  of  ignorant,  mindless  underlings.  This  is  the 
basis  of  my  abhorrence  of  the  Democratic  party.  Its 
motto  of  '  Vox  populi,  imperium  in  imperio '  is  as  false 
as  the  faith  of  its  leaders.  I  have  asserted  upon  the 
hustings,  in  the  Legislature,  in  private  and  in  public 
assemblies,  that  any  sane,  rational  being  would  rather 
be  governed  by  an  educated  oligarchy  than  an  illiterate 
democracy.  Else,  liberty  were  license,  anarchy,  ruin. 
Law,  order  and  safety  lie  in  the  rule  of  the  fit  and  free. 
Nine-tenths — I  might  say  nineteen-twentieths — of  the 
lives  lost  in  what  history  dignifies  as  '  uprisings  of  the 
people '  are  thrown  away  in  ignorant  frenzy.  The  very 
'  rights '  for  which  the  besotted  wretches  fought  would 
have  been  such  expensive  playthings  in  their  keeping 
as  would  be  this  watch  of  mine  to  a  baby." 

"  The  baby  will  grow  in  knowledge,  stature  and  skill," 
suggested  Mr.  Bradley,  respectfully. 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  83 

"True,  sir!  true!  But  that  is  not  a  valid  reason 
why  you  should  let  him  batter  upon  the  rocks  a  treasure 
that  cost  more  than  his  entire  race  ever  owned !  When 
he  is  a  man  grown,  or  a  tolerably  intelligent  and  worthy 
lad,  he  shall  have  the  watch  from  me  as  a  gift  and  a 
'  God  bless  you  !'  to  boot.  If  he  try  to  steal  it  or  take 
it  by  force  before  then  I  shall  flog  him  into  a  sense  of 
honesty  and  justice.  —  But  this  is  a  political  tirade ! 
I  crave  pardon  of  the  ladies." 

He  arose  with  a  bow  all  around — a  marvelous  com- 
bination of  homage,  apology  and  farewell. 

"Archibald,  my  good  fellow,  may  I  ask  for  the  pleas- 
ure of  your  company  as  far  as  the  gate  ?  I  want  to 
confer  with  you  on  a  little  matter  of  business." 

"You  are  not  going  before  supper !"  remonstrated 
Grandma.  "  This  is  hardly  neighborly." 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Read,  do  not  make  the  inevitable  the 
insupportable  by  adding  to  hardship  the  weight  of  your 
displeasure.  Do  me  the  bare  justice  to  believe  that  I 
would  not — could  not — decline  your  invitation  were  not 
conscience,  duty  and  honor  ranged  on  the  other  side. 
With  your  permission  I  shall  compensate — myself— for 
the  present  sacrifice  by  another  and  longer  call  at  an 
early  day." 

He  brushed  the  floor  with  the  broad  brim  of  his  straw 
hat,  and  walked  bareheaded  until  out  of  the  house  and 
front  porch.  Miss  Virginia  craned  her  slender  neck  to 
watch  the  soldierly  figure  down  the  paved  walk  leading 
to  the  gate  and  the  rack  where  his  horse  was  tied. 

"  I  comprehend  why  he  called  his  son  Philip  Sidney," 
she  said,  with  a  pretty  catch  in  her  breath.  "But 
Philip  Sidney  will  never  be  half  so  fine  a  man  as  his 
father.  He  is  magnificent,  in  spite  of  that  ridiculous 
red  coat.  Why  does  he  wear  it  ?" 

Grandma  laughed. 


84  JUDITH: 

"It  is  one  of  his  harmless  whims,  my  dear.  Quite 
innocent  and  quite  unaccountable.  He  does  not  come 
of  a  tory  family,  nor  was  he  ever  very  fond  of  fox- 
hunting." 

"I  rather  like  it,"  said  Aunt  Betsey,  "It  goes  so 
well  with  his  manners  and  talk.  All  are  somewhat 
florid." 

"They  make  a  harmonious  chord,"  was  Mr.  Brad- 
ley's  comment.  "  All  three  are  essentially  Maconian, 
and  none  of  them  would  sit  well  on  any  other  man  1 
ever  saw.  He  is  like  a  red-lettered  edition  of  Sir 
Charles  Grandison." 

Grandma  laughed  again — the  low  merriment  that 
had  never  lost  its  youthful  ripple.  Aunt  Maria  echoed 
it,  and  Aunt  Betsey  blushed  more  redly  than  the 
monthly  roses  over  the  porch  steps. 

"It  is  time  to  see  about  supper,"  she  said,  hastily, 
stooping  to  take  up  her  key  basket. 

Mr.  Bradley  gazed  bewilderedly  after  her  as  she 
vanished  into  the  house. 

"  May  I  be  enlightened  ?"  he  asked,  pathetically. 

"You  used  the  key  to  the  puzzle,  although  un- 
intentionally," rejoined  Aunt  Maria,  still  intensely 
amused.  "A  few  months  before  Aunt  Betsey's  mar- 
riage, Captain  Macon,  then  a  gay  widower,  offered 
himself  to  her  by  letter.  This  declaration  he  slipped 
into  the  fourth  volume  of  Sir  Charles  Grandison,  and 
put  the  book  back  in  the  bookcase.  On  taking  his 
leave  of  Aunt  Betsey  that  day,  he  asked  her  to  '  read 
carefully  a  certain  marked  passage  on  the  forty-third 
page  of  the  fourth  volume  of  that  incomparable  work, 
and  favor  him  with  a  written  or  verbal  commentary 
upon  the  same.' 

"  She  promised  to  do  this,  and  forgot  it  entirely.  In 
the  letter  he  had  said  that  he  would  consider  silence  as 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  85 

rejection  of  his  suit,  and  never  trouble  her  again,  but 
remain  forever  her  true  friend  and  well-wisher.  Ten 
years  afterward  the  gallant  Captain,  having  meanwhile 
solaced  his  wounded  heart  by  a  handsome  second  wife — 
my  sister  Mary,  Judith's  mother,  read  Sir  Charles 
Grandison  through,  and  happened  upon  the  sealed  love- 
letter.  The  suitor  never  knew  how  long  it  remained 
unread.  Our  good  aunt  has  been  teased  by  those  who 
know  and  enjoy  the  joke  until  she  has  become  some- 
what sensitive  on  the  subject." 

"A  real  romance  in  everyday  life  !"  cried  Miss  Vir- 
ginia, enchanted.  "  I  was  never  so  close  to  one  before, 
unless  I  brushed  by  it  in  the  dark  without  knowing  it." 

While  the  light  chit-chat  of  the  merry  group  went 
forward,  I  strolled  around  to  the  front  of  the  house  to 
pick  fresh  sweetbrier  buds  for  my  favorite's  breast-knot. 
The  tallest  branches  of  the  giant  walnut  tree  were 
washed  with  gold  such  as  capped  the  hill-brows.  Vale 
and  plain  were  in  amethyst  shadow,  warm  and  trans- 
parent. The  two  figures  just  outside  the  wicket-gate 
of  the  yard  were  defined  darkly  against  the  pale  stubble 
of  a  wheat-field  beyond  the  red-clay  road.  Captain 
Macon  had  one  hand  on  the  pommel,  the  bridle  gath- 
ered up  in  it,  yet  did  not  mount.  Their  heads  were 
close  together ;  they  seemed  to  whisper  their  earnest 
sayings.  Twice  the  Captain  brandished  his  whip  so 
sharply  that  I  heard  the  whizzing  slash  in  the  air  which 
made  his  horse  plunge.  At  length  he  swung  himself 
into  the  saddle,  yet  leaned  down  for  one  long  sentence 
in  the  other's  ear.  As  the  horse  bounded  away  at  the 
spur-prick,  I  ran  down  the  walk  to  Uncle  Archie.  He 
had  not  stirred  from  the  spot  where  he  had  stood  so 
long,  even  to  gaze  after  the  departing  rider,  nor  did  he 
turn  at  my  approach.  As  I  seized  the  hand  hanging 
by  his  side,  it  had  the  dead  limpness  of  a  glove.  Look- 


86  JUDITH: 

ing  up  confidently  into  the  face  that  had  always  a  smile 
for  me,  I  beheld  it  dark  and  dreadful,  wrung  with  pain, 
and  set  in  anger  I  could  fear  but  not  fathom. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

AUNT  MARIA  went  up  to  our  room  with  me  that 
night  as  she  often  did.  She  was  grave  and  gentle  in 
look  and  speech.  Uncle  Archie  was  troubled  about 
"business,"  she  stated,  and  did  not  feel  like  talking. 
Grandma  had  a  headache.  I  must  remember  in  my 
prayers  all  who  were  in  distress  of  any  kind,  then  go  to 
sleep  like  a  dear,  good  child.  She  laid  a  long  kiss  on 
my  lips  when  I  was  in  bed.  I  could  have  been  sure 
there  were  tears  in  her  sweet  eyes,  but  durst  ask  no 
questions.  Family  discipline  of  the  mildest  type  then 
in  practice  taught  children  at  least  when  not  to  speak. 

Next  morning,  after  breakfast,  Mammy  summoned 
me  to  "  the  chamber."  Grandma  had  not  appeared  at 
the  breakfast-table.  She  was  dressed  as  usual,  but  lay 
back  in  the  great  chair  she  seldom  used  when  in  tole- 
rable health,  and  looked  wan  and  sad.  After  kissing 
me,  she  pointed  to  her  footstool  as  my  seat,  and  as 
Mammy  was  going  out  called  her  back. 

"  Stay  here,  'Eitta  !  I  have  nothing  to  say  to  the 
child  that  you  may  not  hear." 

The  maid  obeyed  without  speaking,  and  took  her 
stand  behind  her  mistress'  chair,  one  hand  on  the  high 
back,  her  eyes  downcast,  her  visage  still  and  melancholy. 

Then  and  thus  my  grandmother  told  me  the  story 
Captain  Macon  had  ridden  over  to  communicate  the 
preceding  day,  but  which  he  adjudged  fit  for  men's  ears 
only — the  account  of  what  has  the  bad  notoriety  of 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  87 

being  the  one  partially-successful  insurrection  of  the 
Southern  slaves  against  their  masters,  among  the  very 
few  that  were  definitely  planned,  the  many  suggested 
by  mischief-makers  not  of  their  race  and  dreamed  of  by 
embryo  demagogues  of  their  own  color. 

Nat  Turner,  the  petted  slave  of  a  planter  in  South- 
ampton County,  in  southeastern  Virginia,  had  imbibed 
at  an  early  age  the  idea  that  he  was  divinely  appointed 
to  some  exalted  mission.  His  silly  mother,  hearing  her 
four-year-old  boy  narrate  a  trifling  incident  to  a  play- 
mate, cried  out  in  rapt  surprise  that  it  had  happened 
before  he  was  born,  and  he  must  be  a  prophet.  His 
master  took  much  and  injudicious  notice  of  the  pert 
urchin,  as  he  grew  older,  taught  him  to  read  and  lent 
him  books  and  newspapers.  The  lazy  protege,  loung- 
ing on  porches,  hanging  about  political  barbecues  and 
waiting  behind  his  master's  chair  at  gentlemen's  dinner- 
parties when  wine  and  argument  flowed  freely,  heard  a 
rare  medley  of  politics  and  religion,  French  infidelity 
and  Calvinistic  decrees.  The  fermentation  of  these  ele- 
ments disordered  a  brain  never  too  well  balanced,  fired 
a  train  laid  by  vanity  and  ambition.  He  affected  to 
receive  revelations  from  Heaven,  prayed  long  and  loud 
and  fasted  ostentatiously,  and  soon  became  the  sooth- 
sayer of  the  region.  He  muttered  excitedly  over  his 
work  and  in  solitude,  and  was  reputed  to  be  in  familiar 
communication  with  unseen  spirits.  He  predicted 
deaths,  accidents,  signs  in  the  clouds  and  prodigies  upon 
the  earth.  He  had  mysterious  birth-marks  on  his 
chest,  and  captured  and  exhibited  beetles  stamped  with 
cabalistic  figures,  turtles  marked  with  his  initials  and 
crossed  swords,  and  locusts  with  a  big  "  W"  wrought  in 
the  gossamer  of  their  wings.  All  these  tokens  of  the 
Divine  purpose  pointed  to  WAR  as  necessary  and  im- 
minent. 


88  JUDITH: 

"On  the  12th  of  May,  1828,"  he  said  in  his  con- 
fession, "I  heard  a  loud  noise  in  the  heavens,  and  the 
Spirit  instantly  appeared  to  me  and  said  the  serpent 
was  loosened,  and  Christ  had  laid  down  the  yoke  he 
had  borne  for  the  sins  of  men,  and  that  I  should  take  it 
on  and  fight  against  the  serpent,  for  the  time  was  fast 
approaching  when  the  first  should  be  last  and  the  last 
should  be  first — and  by  signs  in  the  heavens  that  it  would 
be  made  known  to  me  when  I  should  commence  the 
great  work,  and  until  the  first  sign  appeared  I  should 
conceal  it  from  the  knowledge  of  men." 

Convinced  according  to  his  showing  that  the  predicted 
war  was  to  be  one  of  races  that  should  lower  the  first 
to  the  present  level  of  the  last,  and  elevate  the  last  to 
the  throne  of  the  first,  the  yoke-bearer  and  leader  zeal- 
ously prepared  the  imaginations  of  his  disciples  for  some 
mighty  happening,  the  exact  nature  of  which  he  might 
not  as  yet  reveal.  He  denied  himself  everything  except 
the  meanest  food,  redoubled  his  prayers  and  voluntary 
mortifications  of  the  flesh,  moving  among  his  fellows  as 
one  to  whom  Christ  the  Lord  had  relegated  the  work  of 
final  redemption  of  His  saints  and  vengeance  upon  their 
enemies.  He  preached  openly  in  the  sight  and  hearing 
of  the  whites  that  he  had  received  consecration  directly 
from  the  Spirit,  that  he  was  Elijah,  the  harbinger  of  the 
Second  Advent,  the  herald  of  the  Year  of  Jubilee  ;  John 
the  Baptist  risen  from  the  dead,  and  crying  in  the  wil- 
derness of  Southampton,  "  Repent !  for  the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven  is  at  hand  I" 

He,  for  one,  had  no  personal  wrongs  to  avenge.  Like 
the  famous  "  Uncle  Jack  "  of  Amelia  County,  of  whom 
Dr.  Rice  records,  u  He  is,  in  many  respects,  the  most 
remarkable  man  I  ever  knew,"  Nat  Turner  was  re- 
garded with  prideful  respect  by  the  gentlemen  of  the 
neighborhood.  His  conventicles  were  tolerated  by  easy- 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  89 

going  Episcopalians  who  readily  conceded  that  their 
ancient  and  honorable  service  was  not  attractive  to  the 
lower  orders,  and  encouraged  by  sects  that  received,  at 
each  sacramental  feast,  accessions  to  their  church-rolls 
in  "Turner's  converts." 

"My  master  was  very  kind  to  me  and  placed  the 
greatest  confidence  in  me,"  is  his  testimony.  "In  fact 
I  had  no  cause  to  complain  of  his  treatment  to  me." 

This  is  a  very  temperate  statement  of  the  truth  that 
he  was  a  slave  in  little  besides  the  name,  working  just 
when  and  where  he  pleased,  and,  especially  in  the  long 
winter  evenings,  roaming  from  one  plantation  to  an- 
other on  what  he  and  his  lax  and  kindly  employer 
regarded  as  his  professional  business — home-missionary 
labors.  It  may  be  assumed  positively  that  he  who  was 
eventually  to  claim  his  master's  property  as  his  right, 
and  his  master's  life  as  the  forfeit  paid  by  the  tyrant  to 
the  oppressed,  never,  in  the  course  of  his  existence  of 
thirty-one  years,  half  earned  a  decent  livelihood.  If  he 
had  been  dependent  upon  his  own  exertions  he  must 
have  starved  in  a  climate  where  light  labor  brings  in 
plentiful  returns  of  harvest,  and  wild  fruit  is  abun- 
dant. 

In  February,  1831,  the  promised  sign  appeared — an 
eclipse  of  the  sun — and  to  return  to  his  own  words, 
"  the  seal  was  removed  from  my  lips. 

"  It  was  intended  by  us  to  have  begun  the  work  of 
death  on  the  4th  of  July  last.  Many  were  the  plans 
formed  and  rejected  by  us,  and  it  affected  my  mind  to 
such  a  degree  that  I  fell  sick,  and  the  time  passed  with- 
out our  coming  to  any  determination  how  to  com- 
mence— still  forming  new  schemes  and  rejecting  them, 
when  the  sign  appeared  again  which  determined  me  to 
wait  no  longer." 

The  second  heavenly  sign  was  what  a  local  historian 


W  JUDITH: 

denominates  "  the  unnatural  and  extraordinary  appear- 
ance of  the  sun  at  that  particular  period." 

Turner  lost  not  an  hour  in  availing  himself  of  the 
wildly-excited  fancies  of  his  satellites.  Seven  ringlead- 
ers met  in  the  woods  at  three  o'clock  on  Sunday  after- 
noon, August  21,  to  hold  a  solemn  feast  preparatory  to 
the  bloody  sacrifice  in  the  name  of  Freedom.  To  this 
dinner,  "Hark,"  Nat  reports,  "brought  a  pig,  and 
Henry  brandy."  The  seventh  man  had  not  been  pres- 
ent at  previous  conferences,  and  was  challenged  by  the 
prophet  in  this  manner : 

"I  saluted  them  on  coming  up,  and  asked  Will  how 
he  came  there. 

"  He  answered  that  his  life  was  worth  no  more  than 
others,  and  his  liberty  as  dear  to  him. 

"  I  asked  him  if  he  thought  to  obtain  it. 

"  He  said  he  would  or  lose  his  life. 

"  This  was  enough  to  put  him  in  full  confidence." 

The  bold  realism  of  the  confession  is  the  more  revolt- 
ing that  the  arch-conspirator's  overweening  conceit 
crops  out  in  every  paragraph,  and  the  tragical  details 
are  given  with  a  passionless  triteness  that  shows  by 
contrast  G-uiteau's  "  poor  soul !"  when  alluding  to  the 
widow  of  his  victim,  as  the  breathings  of  tenderest 
humanity. 

"  It  was  quickly  agreed  that  we  should  commence  at 
home"  (i.e.,  the  house  of  Nat's  master,  Mr.  Joseph 
Travis)  "on  that  night,  and  until  we  had  armed  and 
equipped  ourselves  and  gathered  sufficient  force,  neither 
age  nor  sex  was  to  be  spared  (which  was  invariably  ad- 
hered to).  We  remained  at  the  feast  until  about  two 
hours  in  the  night,  when  we  went  to  the  house  and 
found  Austin.  They  all  went  to  the  cider-press  and 
drank  except  myself.  On  returning  to  the  house,  Hark 
went  to  the  door  with  an  axe,  for  the  purpose  of  break' 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  91 

ing  it  open,  as  we  knew  we  were  strong  enough  to 
murder  the  family  if  they  were  awakened  by  the  noise ; 
but  reflecting  that  it  might  create  an  alarm  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, we  determined  to  enter  the  house  secretly  and 
murder  them  while  sleeping.  Hark  got  a  ladder  and 
set  it  against  the  chimney,  on  which  I  ascended  and 
hoisted  a  window,  entered  and  came  down  stairs,  un- 
barred the  door  and  removed  the  guns  from  their  places. 
It  was  then  observed  that  I  must  spill  the  first  blood ; 
on  which,  being  armed  with  a  hatchet  and  accompanied 
by  Will,  I  entered  my  master's  chamber.  It  being 
dark,  I  could  not  give  a  death-blow.  The  hatchet 
glanced  from  his  head;  he  sprang  from  the  bed  and 
called  his  wife.  It  was  his  last  word.  Will  laid  him 
dead  with  a  blow  of  the  axe,  and  Mrs.  Travis  shared 
the  same  fate  as  she  lay  in  bed. 

"  The  murder  of  this  family,  five  in  number,  was  the 
work  of  a  moment.  Not  one  of  them  awoke.  There 
was  a  little  infant  in  a  cradle  that  was  forgotten  until 
we  had  left  the  house  and  gone  some  distance,  when 
Henry  and  Will  returned  and  killed  it." 

Their  numbers  were  augmented  at  each  house  they 
visited  on  the  same  bloody  errand,  until  they  were  an 
armed  and  mounted  gang  of  between  fifty  and  sixty 
men.  Before  the  marauders  lay  the  peaceful  homes  of 
those  who  had  known  and  liked  and  trusted  them. 
Some  of  the  sleeping  men  and  women  had  partaken  of 
the  symbols  of  the  slain  body  and  shed  blood  of  their 
common  Lord  and  Master  from  the  same  pastor's  hand 
year  after  year.  Fellow-Christians,  friends,  foster- 
brothers  and  sisters,  the  baby  at  the  breast  and  the  bed- 
ridden grandmother,  whose  purblind  eyes  could  not 
discern  the  face  of  him  who  cut  her  throat — all  were 
stricken  down  without  word  and  without  mercy.  At 
one  house  breakfast  was  just  over,  and  a  young  girl, 


92  JUDITH: 

leading  a  pretty  boy  by  the  hand,  stepped  off  the  porch 
and  tripped  down  the  path  to  meet  Nat  Turner  at  the 
gate.  He  had  ridden  on  to  reconnoitre,  leaving  the 
gang  concealed  in  a  corn-field  hard  by.  The  young 
lady  knew  and  greeted  him  cordially.  The  child  cried 
out:  "Uncle  Nat!  please  give  me  a  ride  on  your 
horse  ?"  and  held  up  his  arms  to  be  lifted  into  the 
saddle. 

"Good  morning,  Miss  Kitty,"  said  Nat,  alighting. 
"  Is  your  brother  at  home  ?" 

"  Yes,  but  he  is  sick  in  bed.  Will  you  go  up  and  see 
him  ?" 

Turner  owned,  somewhat  shamefacedly,  in  prison 
that,  as  she  smiled  up  at  him  and  the  boy  clasped  his 
leg,  his  heart  failed  him  for  a  cowardly  second.  But  he 
was  set  apart  by  the  Spirit  to  the  work.  He  dealt  a 
blow  for  Freedom  when  he  shot  the  girl  through  the 
heart  and  cleft  the  child's  head  with  a  broad7axe.  His 
followers  rushed  forward  pell-mell  to  dispatch  the  sick 
man,  his  mother  and  three  beautiful  sisters. 

The  carnival  of  blood  reigned  until  the  afternoon  of 
Monday.  Then,  leaving  behind  a  track  bestrewed  with 
fifty-five  corpses,  lying  where  they  had  fallen  and  with 
none  to  bury  them,  the  band  of  liberators,  collected  by 
their  chief  into  a  caricature  of  a  company  of  cavalry,  and 
"carried,"  he  said,  with  modest  satisfaction,  "  through 
all  the  maneuvers  I  was  master  of,"  was  drawn  up  in 
the  open  road  and  harangued  from  the  words,  "  Begin- 
ning at  Jerusalem."  This  was  the  name  of  the  shire- 
town — "  the  Court  House  " — of  Southampton  County, 
a  mere  hamlet  of  about  twenty  dwellings  clustering 
about  the  court-house,  clerk's  office,  jail,  a  church  and 
two  or  three  stores,  in  one  of  which  was  the  post-office. 
This  Turner  proposed  to  make  his  head-quarters  and  the 
pivot  of  the  rebellion.  The  white  residents  were  first 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  93 

to  be  massacred,  and  it  is  said  that  he  read  as  his  war- 
rant for  the  deed  the  twenty-second  chapter  of  Ezekiel, 
the  sequel  of  this  strange  service  on  which  he  had  not 
scrupled  to  ask  the  Divine  blessing.  His  auditors, 
drunken  with  brandy,  cider  and  whisky  from  the  rifled 
cellars  of  their  butchered  masters  and  lusting  for  far- 
ther carnage,  hearkened  with  gloating  senses  to  the 
fearful  judgments  pronounced  against  the  princes  who 
had  destroyed  souls  for  dishonest  gain,  the  prophets 
who  daubed  with  untempered  mortar,  saying,  "Thus 
saith  the  Lord  God,"  when  the  Lord  hath  not  spoken; 
the  people  of  the  land  who  used  oppression  and  exer- 
cised robbery  and  vexed  the  poor  and  needy. 

All  these,  so  they  now  heard  from  the  lips  of  their 
Moses,  were  to  be  gathered  "into  the  midst  of  Jeru- 
salem, as  they  gather  silver  and  brass  and  iron  and 
lead  and  tin  into  the  midst  of  the  furnace,  to  blow  the 
fire  upon  it  to  melt  it."  Not  one  doubted  that  the 
shabby  little  South  Country  village  was  in  the  mind  of 
the  Hebrew  prophet  when  he  wrote  of  the  capital  of 
"  the  land  that  is  not  cleansed." 

When  Turner  returned  the  Bible  to  his  pocket — the 
well-worn  volume  which  he  boasted  in  his  condemned 
cell  he  spent  his  Sunday  evenings  in  reading  until  he 
could  repeat  many  chapters  from  memory — his  followers 
raised  a  savage  yell,  and  spurred  down  the  road  toward 
Jerusalem.  The  gallop  became  a  run,  the  run  a  helter- 
skelter  race,  kept  up  in  the  dusty  highway  for  four 
miles.  It  was  a  hurly-burly  of  devils — screeching,  bel- 
lowing, psalm-singing  as  they  dashed  along,  brandishing 
blood-stained  scythes,  pikes  and  axes,  and  now  and  then 
firing  off  a  gun  or  pistol  in  their  murderous  glee.  The 
stentorian  voice  of  Turner,  trained  in  prayer-meetings 
and  exhortings,  arose  at  intervals  above  the  hubbub  in 
shouted  orders  heeded  by  none.  At  a  bend  in  the  road 


94  JUDITH: 

the  intoxicated  crew  came  abruptly  in  sight  of  a  squad 
of  white  horsemen,  ten  in  number,  drawn  up  across 
the  way. 

"Halt  and  fire!"  vociferated  Turner  to  his  com- 
pany. 

Before  they  could  raise  their  guns  a  volley  of  mus- 
ketry blazed  along  the  line  of  their  opponents.  One 
negro  fell  dead,  several  others  were  wounded.  A  second 
discharge  followed  in  rapid  succession,  Turner  and  his 
men  firing  a  few  random  and  harmless  shots.  Before 
the  whites  could  reload,  the  rebels  turned  their  horses' 
heads  as  one  man,  and  fled  at  full  speed. 

"  On  my  way  back,"  their  leader  relates,  "  I  called  at 
Mr.  Thomas',  Mrs.  Spencer's,  and  several  other  places. 
The  white  families  having  fled,  we  found  no  more  vic- 
tims to  gratify  our  thirst  for  blood.  We  stopped  at 
Major  Eidley's  quarter  for  the  night,  and  being  joined 
by  four  of  his  men,  with  the  recruits  made  since  my  de- 
feat, we  mustered  now  about  forty  strong." 

Without  understanding  why  he  does  so,  he  mentions 
the  "thirst  for  blood"  of  the  rampant  brute-part  he 
had  aroused  in  the  hitherto  indolent  and  docile  black, 
as  naturally  as  he  tells  how,  after  the  gross  and  pro- 
longed feast  of  Sunday  night,  "all  went  to  the  cider- 
press  and  drank." 

A  false  alarm  was  raised  during  the  night  by  the 
sentinels  he  had  posted.  They  came  running  into  the 
camp  with  the  news  that  they  were  to  be  attacked. 
Turner  had  lain  down  to  sleep,  but  was  "  quickly  roused 
by  a  great  racket. "  He  ordered  a  reconnoissance,  and 
the  return  of  these  scouts  being  mistaken  for  hostile 
horsemen,  the  rout  was  complete.  All  but  twenty  dis- 
persed in  various  directions,  in  spite  of  Turner's  frantic 
endeavor  to  rally  them.  He  "  called  "  during  Tuesday 
forenoon  upon  other  families  in  the  neighborhood,  but 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  95 

was  fired  upon  from  upper  windows  in  two  or  three  in- 
stances and  retreated,  leaving  several  of  his  followers 
wounded. 

"I  do  not  know  what  became  of  them,"  he  says, 
"  as  I  never  saw  them  afterward.  Pursuing  our  way  back 
and  coming  in  sight  of  Captain  Harris',  where  we  had 
been  the  day  before,  we  discovered  a  party  of  white 
men  at  the  house,  on  which  all  deserted  me  but  two — 
Jacob  and  Nat." 

These  he  sent  out  from  the  rendezvous  in  the  woods, 
where  the  Sabbath  feast  had  been  held,  "  with  orders  to 
rally  all  they  could."  They  were  the  bearers  of  impera- 
tive requisitions  upon  the  six  other  ringleaders.  Turner 
remained  alone  in  the  depths  of  the  forest  until  Wednes- 
day afternoon,  when  he  caught  sight  of  "white  men 
riding  round  the  place  as  though  they  were  looking  for 
some  one,"  and  concluded  that  his  emissaries  had  been 
captured,  and,  as  he  generously  puts  it,  "compelled  to 
betray  "  him. 

For  six  weeks  he  skulked  in  woods  and  field,  burrow- 
ing like  a  ground-hog  under  piles  of  rails  and  fallen 
timber,  in  holes  dug  with  the  sword  he  had  waved  in 
the  "  Forward  to  Jerusalem  "  charge,  and  subsisting  on 
green  corn,  potatoes  and  meat  stolen  from  the  deserted 
Travis  place.  The  only  human  beings  to  whom  he  spoke 
during  this  time  were  two  negroes  who  were  out  hunt- 
ing one  night  with  a  dog,  and  passed  his  cave. 

I  copy  his  account  of  the  incident : 

"  I  had  just  gone  out  to  walk  about  and  the  dog  dis- 
covered me  and  barked.  On  which,  thinking  myself 
discovered,  I  spoke  to  them  to  beg  concealment.  On 
making  myself  known  they  fled  from  me.  Knowing  then 
they  would  betray  me,  I  immediately  left  my  hiding- 
place. " 

There  are  pathos  and  significance  in  the  words  I  have 


»6  JUDITH: 

italicised  that  almost  move  us  to  compassion  for  the 
humiliated  seer  and  liberator,  and  prove  that  he  knew 
the  material  he  had  to  deal  with  better  than  an  alien  to 
the  race  could  have  understood  it. 

A  fortnight  afterward  Mr.  Phipps,  one  of  the  armed 
patrol  that  never  let  the  fugitive's  scent  get  cold, 
caught  a  glimpse  of  something  stirring  under  the 
bushy  top  of  a  prostrate  oak,  and  riding  closer,  saw 
that  it  was  human  and  black.  Without  a  moment's 
hesitation  he  brought  his  cocked  gun  to  his  shoulder, 
covering  the  crouching  creature.  A  hoarse  voice  begged 
him  to  hold  his  fire,  and  a  ragged,  earth-grimed  thing, 
emaciated  by  fasting  and  trembling  with  the  malarial 
ague  of  the  low  countries,  crept  into  the  sunshine. 
Even  in  this  extremest  degradation  the  defeated  leader 
clung  to  the  last  shred  of  official  pomp.  The  deputy  of 
Him  who  "had  borne  the  yoke  for  the  sins  of  men," 
went  through,  as  he  chronicles,  the  form  of  "  surrender- 
ing "  his  sword  to  the  captor,  as  to  another  and  a  victo- 
rious general. 

There  was  no  plea  of  insanity  urged  at  his  trial.  Nor 
was  there  in  other  and  non-slaveholding  states  any  ex- 
pression of  sympathy  with  the  aims  and  acts,  or  pity 
for  the  fate  of  one  who,  forsaken  at  the  first  show  of  op- 
position by  the  adherents  who  had  sworn  within  two 
days  to  sell  life  for  liberty,  yet  believed  up  to  the  gal- 
lows' foot  that  "God  set  him  about  this  righteous 
work." 

One  item  in  the  list  of  the  killed  on  that  Sunday  night 
after  the  "  feast  of  consecration,"  is  : 

" Mrs.  Levi  Walker  and  ten  children." 

It  was  hard  to  convince  Christians  in  the  first  third 
of  the  nineteenth  century  that  "Divine  necessity" 
takes  such  form  as  this. 

The  outline  of  this  frightful  tale,  up  to  the  dispersion 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  97 

of  the  rebels  on  Tuesday  noon,  was  what  my  grand- 
mother imparted  to  me  as  cautiously  as  was  consistent 
with  my  right  comprehension  of  the  situation  in  which 
we,  with  other  Virginian  families,  were  placed  by  the 
catastrophe.  Swift  messengers  had  borne  the  news  to 
Richmond,  and  others  been  dispatched  by  the  state 
authorities  at  the  capital  in  every  direction  to  warn  the 
white  population  of  the  danger  working  under  their 
feet.  Military  companies  from  armory  and  municipality 
set  off  without  the  delay  of  an  hour  for  the  afflicted 
county  seventy  miles  away.  The  Richmond  Blues,  the 
gallant  volunteers  that  had  marched  forth  in  the  tem- 
pest of  rain  and  fire  from  heaven  to  oppose  Gabriel's 
horde,  buckled  on  sword-belts,  shouldered  muskets, 
and  joined  in  this  bloodier  expedition.  Infuriated  at 
the  fiendish  atrocity  of  the  wholesale  butchery  reported 
to  them  ;  racked  beyond  the  power  of  control  at  the 
horrible  sights  that  met  them  in  their  passage  through 
a  district  where  there  were  not  enough  living  inhabi- 
tants to  put  decently  underground  the  piles  of  dead 
blackening  in  the  August  heat — they  were  hardly  re- 
strained by  discipline  from  entering  upon  a  retaliative 
slaughter  of  the  Southampton  negroes.  They  ransacked 
quarters  and  barns  and  woods  with  the  zeal  of  blood- 
hounds for  evidences  of  complicity  in  the  horrid  work  ; 
shot  without  warrant  or  remorse  at  dusky  figures  steal- 
ing through  the  underbrush,  hiding  behind  trees  and 
lurking  in  gullies,  as  the  militia  and  regular  soldiery 
rode  by  in  their  fierce  patrol  of  the  neighborhood. 

These  and  other  particulars  were  unknown  to  us 
when  I  listened  to  Grandma's  brief  synopsis  of  Captain 
Macon's  news.  He,  as  the  head  of  the  impromptu 
police  put  on  duty  in  our  county,  was  in  possession  of 
little  beyond  the  leading  facts  of  the  case.  The  end  of 
the  thread  trailed  away  into  portentous  darkness.  The 


98  JUDITH: 

extent  of  the  conspiracy ;  what  other  and  direful 
developments  were  in  reserve  for  us  ;  what  were  the 
probabilities  of  the  reappearance  of  the  chief  of  the 
murderers  in  another  section  with  a  new  host  at  his 
call — these  were  the  harrowing  uncertainties  that 
begloomed  the  views  of  the  most  sanguine.  Of  this 
suspenseful  period — the  six  weeks  in  which  the  whole 
colored  population  of  Virginia  lay  under  suspicion  of 
harboring  the  escaped  ringleader,  and  rumors  were 
rife  and  rapid  of  his  machinations  and  whereabouts — 
John  Randolph's  declaration  was  true,  "  When  the  fire- 
bell  in  Richmond  rings  at  night,  there  is  never  a  mother 
within  hearing  of  it  who  does  not  clasp  her  baby  more 
tightly  to  her  breast." 

Grandma  did  not  affect  to  conceal  from  me  that  our 
lives  might  be  in  jeopardy  every  hour.  She  did  speak 
calmly  of  the  duty  of  courage  and  resolution,  tenderly 
of  the  one  certainty  that  remained  to  us,  that  a  God  of 
love  and  infinite  compassion  was  above  all,  and  we 
could  not  suffer  hurt  without  his  knowledge  and  con- 
sent. 

And  this  with  Mammy  standing  behind  her  mistress' 
chair,  one  swarthy  hand — sinewy  yet  and  strong  enough 
to  interrupt  for  all  time  the  breath  in  the  white  throat 
above  the  lawn  ruffles  of  the  widow's  dress — almost 
touching  her  shoulder  as  the  tale  went  on  ! 

"  'Ritta,"  said  Grandma,  when  there  was  no  more  to 
tell,  "  will  you  pour  out  my  drops  for  me  ?" 

The  medicine  was  in  a  closet.  It  was  powerful,  and 
must  be  used  carefully.  There  were  other  and  deadlier 
poisons  on  the  same  shelf  that  might  be  substituted  for 
it.  Grandma  did  not  turn  her  head  to  watch  the 
woman  as  she  obeyed  the  order,  drank  the  potion  pre- 
pared, and  gave  back  the  glass  with  the  usual,  "  Thank 
you,  'Ritta,"  that  repaid  every  such  service. 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.  99 

"Mammy,"  said  I,  breathless  and  dizzy  with  a  sud- 
den thought,  "how  did  you  know  anything  about  Nat 
Turner's  plans  a  week  ago  last  Thursday  night — the 
night  I  had  the  nightmare — the  night  you  told  me 
about  your  grandfather  and  your  father?" 

"A  week  ago  last  Thursday,"  repeated  Grandma, 
slowly.  "Why,  my  child,  nothing  of  all  this  had  hap- 
pened then  ?" 

"It  was  the  day  Aunt  Betsey  was  talking  about 
Gabriel's  insurrection  on  the  porch,"  I  continued,  too 
excited  to  recollect  how  I  had  heard  her. 

"I  remember.  We  were  saying  last  night  how 
strange  it  was  that  our  thoughts  should  have  taken 
that  turn.  It  would  seem  sometimes  as  if  the  air 
caught  and  carried  feelings  and  opinions." 

She  said  it  musingly  and  tranquilly ;  then,  for  the  first 
time  since  I  had  sprung  the  question  upon  her,  looked 
at  her  maid. 

"  Did  you  know  or  suspect  anything  of  this  before  it 
came  to  pass?"  without  change  of  tone  or  expression. 

Mammy  set  aside  the  glass,  folded  her  hands  in  the 
submissive  way  common  with  her,  and  rested  her  eyes 
full  upon  her  mistress'  face. 

"  It  was  in  the  air,  as  you  say,  ma'am.  'Twasn't  a 
story,  but  a  sayin'  that  brought  on  the  talk.  It  came 
up  in  the  kitchen  from  the  chapter  Mars'  Archie  read  at 
pra'rs.  Michael  he  arsked  his  mammy  what  was  the 
meanin'  o'  '  insurrection.'  He  say  as  how  he  been  hear 
Miss  Betsey  talkin'  'bout  one  on  the  po'ch,  an'  'bout 
Gabriel  an'  the  creek  risin'.  He  was  in  the  dinin'-room 
breshin'  out  the  flies.  Hose  she  was  all  for  shettin'  him 
up,  but  Uncle  Win'sor — you  know  how  heady  he  is, 
ma'am — would  have  his  say  'bout  them  ole  times,  an' 
Barrateer  he  tole  what  some  men  had  said  in  his  shop 
one  day,  two  or  three  weeks  ago,  'bout  slavery  not  being 


100  JUDITH: 

the  'pintment  of  the  Lord,  though  He  does  'low  it,  an1 
how  liberty  was  proclaim'  to  all  de  'habitants  o'  the  Ian', 
an'  why  not  black  as  well  as  white  ?  That  was  the  peth 
o'  the  talk,  ma'am,  arfter  we  had  sont  the  chillen  to  bed ; 
but  it  sot  me  to  argyin'  an'  thinkin',  an'  when  I  come 
into  the  house  to  fix  yo'  room  for  the  night,  I  couldn't 
fetch  up  all  at  onct.  I  dar'  say,  what  with  turnin'  it 
over  in  my  min'  an'  frettin'  over  other  people's  foolish- 
ness, I  may  have  spoken  imprudent  to  Miss  Judith." 

"  Who  were  the  men  who  talked  in  the  blacksmith's 
shop  ?" 

"Barrateer  didn't  know  'em,  ma'am.  The  tire  of 
their  carryall  wheel  had  come  off.  But  he  'd  a  notion, 
from  their  common  looks  and  keerless  ways,  that  they 
were  free  niggers." 

"  Very  likely,"  thoughtfully.  "  I  must  speak  to  your 
Master  Archie  about  them.  It  may  be  of  some  import- 
ance. Such  careless,  idle  talk  does  much  harm.  'Ritta" 
— the  black  eyes,  usually  so  mild,  were  piercingly  bright 
— "  I  have  told  Miss  Judith  what  I  have  learned  about 
this  terrible  affair.  Have  I  had  all  that  you  know — or 
suspect  ?" 

French  sparkle  met  Huguenot  glow  as  the  two 
women  faced  each  other.  The  kingly  blood  in  the  serf 
triumphed  over  the  habit  of  subjection  learned  in  two 
generations. 

"  My  mistis  has  arsked  me  for  the  truth.  I  has  been 
serve'  her  fur  thirty  odd  year,  an'  she  ain't  never  foun' 
a  lie  in  my  mouth.  This  plantation  an'  this  fam'ly  is 
all  the  home  an'  frien's  I  got  in  this  worl'.  My  husban' 
he  is  in  a  country  whar  even  the  bondage  o'  sin  is  un- 
known. My  only  chile,  my  son,  a  man  growed,  lives 
here  with  me  in  peace  an'  honor.  I  arsk  nothin'  bet- 
ter o'  the  Lord  than  that  He  '11  let  me  die  here  in  my 
nes',  an'  fur  the  same  ban's  to  close  my  eyes  that  shet 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          101 

down  my  mother's  eyelids.  But  ef  my  mistis  wish  to 
hear  what  other  folks — younger  folks — think,  ef  they 
darsn't  say  it  out,  it 's  somethin'  like  this  :  '  Ef  freedom 
ain't  a  good  thing,  why  does  the  Word  o'  the  Lord 
make  so  much  of  it  ?'  The  bondwoman  ain't  the  blessid 
one  thar.  Jerusalem  which  is  above  is  free.  The  '  fas' 
which  the  Lord  has  chosen  is  to  loose  the  ban's  o' 
wickedness.'  But  that  ain't  all !  '  To  ondo  the  heavy 
burdens. '  An'  it  don't  stop  thar !  '  To  let  the  oppress* 
go  free,  an'  to  break  every  yoke  /'  Now,  these  shoulders 
o'  mine  ain't  cuarr'ed  no  heavier  burdens  'n  I  could 
stan'  up  under.  But  my  mother's  did!  I  ain't  op- 
press'. Xo  yoke  ain't  fasten'  on  my  neck.  But  my 
gran'father — a  king  in  his  own  Ian' — never  got  up  from 
crawlin'  on  his  han's  an'  knees  under  his  'n  tell  he 
stood  up  straight  an'  white,  a  saved  soul,  befo'  Him 
who  made  him  free  with  an  everlastin'  freedom.  It 's 
somethin'  wuth  talkin'  'bout  fur  a  man  to  be  his  own 
marster.  It 's  better  wuth  havin'  fur  him  to  be  sure 
that  he  ken  live  joyful  all  the  days  o'  his  life  with  his 
wife  an'  chilleu.  You  know  what  happens  sometime, 
Mistis !  Never  with  your  servants,  thank  the  Lord ! 
Thar  ain't  been  a  Read  servant  sole  sence  I  ken  re- 
member, nor  in  my  mother's  lifetime,  I  been  hear  her 
say.  But  'tain't  so  in  other  places  an'  with  other  folks !" 

"  I  would  free  you  all  to-morrow,  'Eitta,  if  I  could. 
The  Master  whom  we  both  serve  is  my  witness  that  I 
speak  the  truth." 

"Don'  I  know  that,  ma'am  ?  Don'  all  this  place 
know  it,  down  to  the  younges'  chile  that  ken  tell  its 
right  ban'  from  the  leP  ?  An'  don'  we  all  onderstan' 
that  ef  you  did  thar  wouldn't  be  no  res'  fur  the  sole 
o'  our  foot  on  Yirginny  sile  ?  that  we  mus'  pack  up 
babies  an'  bundles  an'  tramp  off  to  earn  our  livin'  'mong 
strangers  an'  furriners  wharwe  '11  be  dispisable  on  'count 


103  JUDITH: 

o'  our  color  ?  "We  ain't  all  of  us  born  fools  yit,  nor  on- 
grateful  to  them  that  have  done  the  bes'  they  could  by 
us.  You  been  arsk  me  what  I  know  an'  what  I  suspec'. 
I  know  there  ain't  a  colored  person  that  ever  b'longed 
to  you  or  yours  that  wouldn't  stan'  between  you  an' 
Kat  Turner's  meat-axe  any  time  o'  day  or  night.  Be- 
fo'  a  h'ar  o'  yo'  head  falls  he  's  got  to  kill  every  man  an' 
woman  o'  his  own  color  on  this  plantation.  "We  all 
heerd  this  story  of  the  crazy  wickedness  goin'  on  in 
Southampton  las'  night.  "We  all  onderstood  this  mornin' 
at  pra'rs  what  Mars'  Archie  wanted  to  talk  to  the  ban's 
about  when  he  tole  them  to  meet  him  at  the  quarters 
when  they  heerd  the  horn  blow  soon  arfter  breakfas'. 
He  knows  by  this  time  how  they  think  an'  feel. 

"  I  ain't  denyin'  that  ef  it  was  so  ez  they  could  be 
free  without  bein'  transpo'ted  into  strange  countries 
like  so  many  barn-burners  an'  horse-stealers,  they  'd 
bless  the  day  that  gin'  'em  liberty.  But  they  don'  see 
their  way  clear  to  the  Promise'  Lan'  over  a  road  fenced 
in  with  babies'  corpses  an'  knee-deep  in  the  blood  o*  in- 
nercent  women  who  have  done  nothin'  but  try  to  cuarry 
the  load  in  the  fear  o'  the  Lord  that  their  forefathers 
laid  'pon  'em.  They  can't  see,  bein'  Christyuns  an' 
human  bein's,  ez  the  Lord  calls  them  to  march  through 
no  sech  Red  Sea  as  that ! 

"  That 's  all  I  know.  I  don'  suspec'  nothin'  I" 
My  grandmother  was  a  woman  of  singular  self-com- 
mand. She  seldom  shed  tears,  almost  as  seldom  lost 
the  dignified  repose  which  gave  such  exquisite  finish  to 
her  manner.  I  was  actually  terrified  when  I  saw  her 
draw  out  her  handkerchief  and  press  it  to  her  eyes. 
She  arose  to  her  feet  and  laid  her  hand — fine  bred  in 
every  line  and  tint,  the  thread  of  gold  that  remained  of 
the  wedding-ring  its  only  ornament — on  the  dark  fingers 
interlaced  in  the  energy  of  her  attendant's  speech. 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          103 

"I  believe  you — and  I  trust  them!  Say  to  them — 
my  people  whom  I  love,  my  friends  who  have  served 
and  cared  for  me  and  mine  these  many  years— these 
words  from  the  Book  in  which  we  all  believe  : 

"  '  Greater  lore  hath  no  man  than  this,  that  a  man  lay 
down  his  life  for  his  friends.'1 

"  I  do  not  believe  that  they  will  be  called  upon  to  de- 
fend my  life  with  theirs.  But  I  shall  be  a  rich  woman 
all  my  days  in  knowing  that  they  would,  if  necessary, 
give  me  and  my  children  this  proof  of  love." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  parlor  at  Summerfield  was  wainscotted  and 
paneled  from  floor  to  ceiling — I  think  with  oak;  cer- 
tainly with  hard  wood,  firm  in  grain  and  solid  in  style — 
but  painted  by  some  long-ago  owner,  in  unpardonable 
barbarity  of  taste,  of  a  reddish  brown.  The  solecism 
of  coating  such  boards  with  any  kind  of  pigment  was, 
however,  the  more  readily  pardoned  in  that  the  hue  in 
the  toning-down  of  years  approximated  the  mellow 
sombreness  the  native  material  would  have  gathered  in 
the  same  time.  The  carpet  was  of  dim  reds  and  soft- 
ened browns.  The  furniture — mahogany,  massive  and 
stiff — consisted  of  exactly  a  dozen  chairs,  two  very 
hard  settees  at  the  sides  of  the  room,  two  round  tables 
in  opposite  corners,  a  candle-stand,  the  top  turned  up 
during  the  day,  and  set  flat  against  the  wall  on  the  left 
hand  side  of  the  fire  to  balance  the  effect  of  the  Bible- 
stand  on  the  right.  Aunt  Maria's  harmonica  was 
pushed  hard  into  the  wall-angle  nearest  the  light-stand, 
and  had  a  companion-piece  in  the  escritoire  on  which  I 


104  JUDITH: 

pen  this  chronicle,  shoved  as  close  into  the  corner  be- 
yond the  tripod  upbearing  the  Holy  Scriptures. 

This  escritoire,  spoken  of  by  the  family  as  "  Archie1? 
secretary,"  was  brought  from  France  by  my  great- 
uncle,  Littleton  Read,  when  he  returned  from  abroad 
with  Francis  Bernard  as  his  valet.  It  is  of  solid  ma- 
hogany, inlaid  with  narrow  lines  and  points  of  satin- 
wood.  Two  deep  drawers  have  brass  handles.  A 
folding  desk-leaf  above  them  rests,  when  open,  upon 
perpendicular  supports  drawn  out  from  the  body  of  the 
secretary.  Back  of  and  above  the  desk  is  a  section  in 
shape  and  height  resembling  the  top  of  an  upright 
piano.  Fluted  doors,  sliding  back  in  grooves,  and  run- 
ning around  the  corners  of  the  upright  to  disappear  en- 
tirely and  mysteriously  from  view  until  a  pull  at  two 
little  brass  knobs — the  only  evidences  of  their  locality 
left  to  sight — brings  them  again  to  the  fore — shut  in 
small  drawers  and  pigeon-holes  when  the  escritoire  is 
not  in  use. 

"  A  gem,"  lovers  of  old  furniture  call  it.  To  me  it  is 
a  missal  the  secret  of  whose  clasp  I  alone  comprehend. 
"When  I  slide  back  the  curious  doors  I  am — out  of  the 
body — in  another  place  and  generation  than  that  to 
which  I  nominally  belong.  From  the  archway  of  the 
central  recess,  where  inkstand  and  pen  are  kept  as  of 
old,  my  childhood's  self  looks  forth  into  eyes  graver  with 
sorrow  and  thought  than  they  were  then  with  musings 
far  too  mature  for  my  years  and  experience.  In  passing, 
I  have  a  trick  of  laying  my  hand  lightly  on  the  closed 
leaf.  I  find  myself  sometimes  sitting  at  it  when  it  is 
unfolded,  paper  and  pen  laid  out  for  work — dreaming, 
is  it  ?  or  seeing  ? 

For  it  is  there,  then,  be  it  to  soul-sight  or  to  faithful 
memory,  that  has  not  suffered  one  lineament  to  be 
blurred  by  the  dash  of  the  waves  we  know  as  years.  A 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          105 

stalwart  form  seated  in  front  of  the  baize-covered  sur- 
face revealed  by  the  open  lid  ;  the  thick  waves  of  black 
hair  falling  low  upon  the  forehead,  with  the  bowing  of 
the  head  above  account-books  and  letters ;  a  dark,  stead- 
fast face,  gray  eyes  too  earnest  for  laughter,  but  which 
softened  and  deepened  suddenly  when  they  smiled ;  a 
mouth  like  Aunt  Maria's  in  the  loving,  winsome  half- 
pout  of  the  lower  lip,  on  which  the  upper  was  laid  in 
more  resolute  lines  than  in  his  sister's — careless,  indeed, 
would  be  the  custodian  that  could  lose  the  portrait  for 
which  he  sat  to  such  worshipful  affection  as  I  bore  him. 
This  was  my  Uncle  Archie — a  simple,  God-fearing  gen- 
tleman, who  believed  in  the  Bible  and  Confession  of 
Faith ;  voted  the  Whig  ticket,  and  paid  his  debts,  one 
hundred  cents  in  the  dollar;  acknowledged  no  social 
code  but  that  of  right,  and  loved  one  woman  better  than 
aught  else  on  earth,  save  truth  and  honor. 

The  desk  was  open  and  the  owner  in  the  arm-chair  be- 
fore it  on  Christmas  Eve,  which  fell  that  year  on  Satur- 
day. He  usually  made  up  his  books  after  supper  on 
Saturday  night,  giving  audience  then  to  the  plantation 
blacksmith,  carpenter,  shoemaker  and  the  head-man  of 
the  field-gang.  These  he  had  directed  to-day  to  bring  in 
their  reports  immediately  after  dinner.  While  they 
gave  and  he  entered  them  in  a  large  ledger,  I  sat  in  my 
winter  "  chimney-place "  on  a  sheepskin,  dyed  red- 
brown,  stuffed  and  lined  by  Mammy's  own  hands,  laid 
on  the  floor  in  the  shelter  of  the  Bible-stand.  My  back 
was  against  the  wall,  my  knees  drawn  up  to  support  a 
volume  taken  from  the  book-case  at  the  farther  end  of 
the  room.  It  was  but  an  average  planter's  library,  yet 
many  expensive  collections  of  our  bibliomaniacal  times 
are  comparatively  poor  in  standard  English  literature. 
The  Spectator,  in  ten  small  sheepskin  volumes,  took  up 
half  of  one  shelf;  "  Rasselas,"  "  Vattek,"  "  Arcadia," 


106  JUDITH: 

Sir  Thomas  Moore's  "Utopia"  and  " Pilgrim's  Pro- 
gress" filled  it  out.  "Plutarch's  Lives,"  translations 
of  the  "Iliad"  and  "Odyssey,"  Shakspeare,  Milton, 
Thomson,  Pope,  Cowper,  James  Montgomery's  poems, 
the  for-ten-years-unread  Sir  Charles  Grandison,  Rol- 
lins' "Ancient  History,"  Hannah  More,  Mrs.  Howe, 
Jeremy  and  Isaac  Taylor,  Baxter,  "  Scott's  Commen- 
tary," "Hervey's  Meditations,"  "Young's  Night 
Thoughts,"  "The  Lady  of  the  Manor,"  a  series  of 
Episcopal  tales  in  seven  volumes,  that  went  near  to  re- 
storing me  to  the  church  of  my  ancestors  ;  "  The  Chil- 
dren of  the  Abbey,"  "Dunallan,"  all  the  Waverley 
novels,  Saurin's  and  Samuel  Davies'  Sermons — were 
some  of  the  works  that  stocked  the  capacious  case. 
Prom  my  sixth  year  I  browsed  at  will  on  such  strong 
and  wholesome  pasturage.  There  were  few  volumes 
then  designed  expressly  for  children,  except  school 
"Readers"  and  "Class-Books."  When  I  was  tired 
skirmishing  with  words  and  thoughts  too  mighty  for 
me,  I  fell  back  for  recuperation  upon  the  "New  York 
Reader  "  and  Mrs.  Barbauld,  always  beloved,  however 
far  I  might  have  outgrown  them. 

The  book  I  had  selected  on  this  particular  afternoon 
was,  I  recollect,  Wirt's  "British  Spy."  My  grand- 
father had  left  pen-and-ink  annotations  in  the  margin, 
identifying  this  and  that  character,  designated  by 
asterisks,  with  well-known  public  men  in  Church 
and  State.  The  leaves  parted  of  themselves  at  the 
description  of  "The  Blind  Preacher."  "With  very  in- 
adequate appreciation  of  the  beauty  of  the  word-paint- 
ing, and,  nevertheless,  drawing  from  it  a  certain  vague 
enjoyment — a  sort  of  mental  cuticular  absorption, 
which  is  one  of  the  uncovenanted  advantages  of  this 
mode  of  education — I  had  read  this  chapter  until  I 
knew  it  without  book.  Dr.  Waddell  was,  as  Virginians 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         107 

rate  such  ties,  a  connection  of  our  family.  Aunt 
Betsey  had  married  his  second  or  third  cousin,  and  the 
subject  of  "Wirt's  eulogy  had  been  a  guest  at  Summer- 
field  in  the  lifetime  of  my  grandfather. 

Aunt  Betsey  liked  to  relate  to  theological  students 
how,  before  there  was  any  established  divinity  school 
in  Virginia,  young  men  preparing  for  the  ministry 
were  wont  to  apply  to  Dr.  Waddell  for  instruction  in 
Hebrew,  in  which  tongue  he  was  proficient.  One  was 
a  resident  for  some  months  in  his  house,  learned  enough 
Hebrew  to  enable  him  to  pass  examination  for  licensure, 
and  married  the  tutor's  daughter.  Another  succeeded 
him,  went  through  his  pupilage,  and  carried  off  a  second 
daughter.  A  third  did  likewise,  and  a  fourth  wedded 
the  sole  remaining  girl  of  the  household,  When  the 
fifth  aspirant  for  initiation  into  the  recondite  lore  of  the 
Pentateuch  presented  himself,  the  oft-robbed  parent 
dryly  informed  him  that  his  "  stock  of  Hebrew  idioms 
was  exhausted." 

"  To  this  day,"  the  narrator  would  add,  smiling  over 
the  rims  of  her  spectacles  at  her  auditor,  "  in  that  part 
of  the  state,  when  a  young  man  is  in  love,  they  say  he 
is  studying  Hebrew." 

I  recalled  the  pleasing  anecdote  while  my  eyes  dwelt 
on  the  words:  "He  is  not  only  a  very  polite  scholar, 
but  a  man  of  extensive  and  profound  erudition." 

Then  my  fancy  rambled  off  to  other  tales  of  the  great 
and  good — some  gleaned  from  the  printed  page,  more 
harvested  from  the  every-day  talk  going  on  about  me. 
The  phrase,  "representative  men,"  had  not  then  been 
adopted  in  the  significance  it  now  bears,  or  I  might  have 
divined  that  my  small  world  was  peopled  with  such — 
with  people  who  had  room  to  grow  and  time  to  form 
in  just  accord  with  the  impulses  of  natural  germination 
and  development ;  in  whom  belief  and  principle  were 


108  JUDITH: 

substantial  framework,  sustaining  the  same  relation  to 
the  external  life  that  bole  and  boughs  do  to  the  cumu- 
lative foliage  of  the  oak.  Character  was  expressed 
opinion  and  faith,  as  strong  and  as  sound  as  conscien- 
tious research  could  make  them.  Each  sturdy  oak 
mounted  upward  and  spread  outward  of  and  for  itself 
in  the  wide  bounteousness  then  vouchsafed  to  individu- 
ality. Every  man  was  a  study,  every  woman  an  entity. 
This  is  not  sentimental  maundering  over  the  fancied 
"grace  of  a  day  that  is  dead,"  but  a  loving  tribute  to 
times  which,  take  them  all  in  all,  may  have  been  no 
better  than  these,  yet  were  fraught  with  a  wholesome 
vitality,  a  direct  exhibition  of  original  elements  now 
ignored  or  vitiated,  that  make  the  superficial  life  of  to- 
day vapid  and  jejune  by  comparison.  Men's  minds  then 
were  like  their  book-cases — furnished  with  recognized 
standards  and  classics  of  doctrine,  studied  from  preface 
to  "finis,"  not  once,  but  so  many  times  that,  by  infil- 
tration, thought,  and  through  thought,  action  and 
existence  were  colored  by  them. 

"While  I  dreamed,  dipping  occasionally  into  such 
pools  of  "  British  Spy  "  literature  as  looked  shallow 
enough  for  my  wading,  the  sable  subordinates  had  had 
their  audience  and  retired.  Several  small  piles  of  coin 
ranged  on  the  baize  at  the  master's  elbow  had  gradu- 
ally vanished.  As  each  man  was  dismissed  he  received 
a  Christmas  gratuity  and  a  word  or  two  of  commen- 
dation. 

"You  have  done  well  this  year.  I  hope  you  will 
have  a  merry  holiday  and  a  happy  N"ew  Year,"  was  the 
longest  expression  of  approval  and  good-will,  but  the 
recipients  took  fully  and  gratefully  for  granted  all  that 
lay  back  of  the  laconic  phrases. 

The  only  sound  that  broke  in  upon  the  afternoon 
quiet  was  the  scratching  of  Uncle  Archie's  pen  and  the 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          109 

muffled  roar  of  the  fire  up  the  throat  of  the  chimney. 
Logs — not  sticks — had  been  piled  as  far  up  as  the 
builder's  arm  could  lay  them  and  then  be  withdrawn 
from  the  roof  of  the  fireplace.  Tall  brass  andirons  sup- 
ported the  load,  a  richly-wrought  fender  of  the  same 
brilliant  metal  hedged  it  about.  The  conflagration  was 
well  under  way.  The  bark  had  ceased  to  crackle — the 
flames  wound  smooth  swathes  about  the  wood  ;  the  hiss 
and  drip  of  the  sap  from  the  cut  ends  told  that  the  bil- 
lets were  hot  to  the  heart.  The  pipe-clayed  hearth  and 
jambs  were  rosy  in  the  glare.  In  the  glass  doors  of  the 
high  book-case  my  end  of  the  room  was  distinctly  re- 
flected, but  in  small-paned  sections,  like  panel-pictures  ; 
the  fire  in  its  rush  and  flare ;  the  mantel  ornaments  of 
square  white  vases  filled  with  holly-berries ;  between 
them  Grandma's  portrait  with  the  rose  in  her  bodice, 
the  frame  wreathed  with  running-cedar  ;  low  down  and 
cut  short  by  a  drawer,  a  dissected  map  of  myself,  clad 
in  the  crimson  merino  which  was  my  best  winter 
frock.  Outside,  the  heavens  were  gray  with  wind- 
clouds,  scurrying  in  troubled  indecision  from  the  north- 
west. The  walnut-tree  top  rocked  and  beat  backward 
hands  at  the  blast  before  which  it  was  forced  to  bend ; 
the  naked  rose-branches  whipped  fitfully  across  the 
windows. 

I  hugged  myself  in  the  warm,  cushioned  covert  under 
the  broad  wing  of  the  Bible-stand. 

"Ah  !"  I  sighed  involuntarily,  then  started  guiltily, 
for  I  was  innocently  vain  of  the  reputation  of  never  dis- 
turbing grown  people  by  my  presence. 

Uncle  Archie  glanced  smilingly  over  his  shoulder. 

"  Tired,  Judith  ?" 

"  No,  sir.  I  didn't  mean  to  do  it.  Only — it  is  Christ- 
mas Eve,  and  everything  is  so  nice  and  pleasant.  I  was 
just  enjoying  it — that  is  all !" 


110  JUDITH: 

"  '  Christmas  in  your  bones,'  as  the  servants  say  ?  I 
am  glad  my  little  girl  is  happy." 

He  returned  to  his  work,  and  I  left  the  pictures  in 
the  glass  to  watch  him.  His  brow  was  clear,  his  smile 
genial.  He,  too,  looked  happy,  and  I  believed  that  I 
knew  why. 

Miss  Virginia  Dabney  had  left  us  early  in  September. 
She  was  never  quite  easy  after  the  news  came  of  the 
Southampton  massacre.  Mammy  said  to  me  once  that 
it  was  natural  to  believe  one  would  be  safer  in  town 
than  country  while  such  rumors  were  flying  about  of 
renewed  risings,  and  Nat  Turner  was  still  uncaught. 
Miss  Virginia  said  she  was  anxious  to  rejoin  her  family, 
that,  come  what  might,  they  would  all  be  together. 
There  was  some  delay  and  a  little  difficulty  in  arranging 
the  manner  of  her  return.  The  roads  were  not  consid- 
ered safe  for  private  carriages ;  we  were  twenty  miles 
from  the  tri-weekly  stage  to  Richmond,  and  in  this, 
which  carried  four  armed  militiamen  on  the  top,  it  was 
not  esteemed  proper  for  a  young  lady  to  travel  alone. 
Finally,  a  guard  of  honor,  consisting  of  Sidney  Macon, 
our  cousin  Clem  Read,  and  Mr.  Bradley,  escorted  her 
and  her  maid  to  the  nearest  stage-house.  Mr.  Bradley, 
who  had  received  letters  requiring  his  presence  in  the 
city,  accompanied  her  the  rest  of  the  way.  Everything 
was  quiet  now,  outwardly.  In  the  Legislature  wise 
men  were  discussing  the  bill  for  the  gradual  abolition 
of  slavery.  It  was  lost  two  months  later  by  a  single 
vote,  but  at  this  Christmas-tide  we  were  sanguine  that 
it  would  be  carried  by  a  large  majority.  The  political 
and  domestic  sky  was  clear  and  propitious  to  the  grate- 
ful celebration  of  our  thanksgiving  week. 

Aunt  Maria  had  gone,  a  fortnight  ago,  to  pay  a  long- 
deferred  visit  to  her  Richmond  friend,  conditional  upon 
Miss  Virginia's  engagement  to  pass  Christmas  at  Sum- 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          Ill 

merfield.  The  two  were  expected  this  evening.  It  had 
not  been  practicable  for  Uncle  Archie  to  be  one  of  her 
attendants  in  September.  His  post  was  on  the  planta- 
tion, which  he  would  let  no  one  patrol  except  himself. 
He  had  pledged  his  word  for  the  good  faith  and  quiet 
behavior  of  his  servants  to  the  neighborhood  police,  and 
could  not  quit  home  for  a  day  in  the  distempered  condi- 
tion of  public  feeling.  Nor  would  his  engagements  at 
this  season  allow  him  to  spare  three  days  in  order  to 
bring  his  sister  and  her  guest  home  for  Christmas.  It 
was  fortunate  that  Mr.  Bradley 's  school-term  closed 
December  15th,  and  that  his  arrangements  for  the  en- 
suing year  made  it  expedient  for  him  to  go  again  to 
town  before  Januarj7  1st.  He  had  been  absent  now 
four  days,  having  gone  down  in  the  Summerfield  car- 
riage sent  for  the  young  ladies. 

I  laughed  slyly  to  my  discreet  self  with  the  wonder 
whether  Uncle  Archie  suspected  how  truly  I  deciphered 
his  face  that  day — the  serene  content  of  his  eyes,  the 
half-smile  that  relaxed  the  habitual  compression  of  his 
lips — if  he  imagined  that  I  did  not  note  his  occasional 
glance  at  the  clouds,  or  that  he  looked  at  his  watch  a 
dozen  times  during  the  afternoon.  His  lapses  into 
dreamy  inaction  had  hindered  the  progress  of  his  task. 
He  held  himself  inexorably  to  pen  and  figures  until  the 
fire-lit  area  about  the  hearth  looked  redder  and  brighter 
for  the  darkening  shadows  hemming  it  in  and  pressing 
it  closer.  By-and-by  the  door  opened  quietly,  and  my 
mother,  Mrs.  Mary  Trueheart,  entered.  She  and  my 
father  had  arrived  two  days  before,  with  the  three  chil- 
dren younger  than  myself.  We  never  failed  to  pass 
Christmas  in  the  old  homestead. 

My  grandfather  was  fair  of  skin  and  hair,  and  his 
wife  used  to  say  that  they  divided  the  children  equally 
between  them.  My  mother  and  her  brothers  Sterling 


112  JUDITH: 

and  "Wythe  were  Saxon  blondes,  with  blue  eyes.  Uncla 
Archie,  Aunt  Maria  and  the  eldest  sister  and  first-born, 
who  died  in  childhood,  were  brunettes,  inheriting  with 
their  mother's  coloring  much  of  her  stateliness  of  car- 
riage and  motion.  The  lady  who  now  appeared  through 
the  ruddy  dusks  nearest  the  door  was  small  and  plump, 
vivacious  in  visage  and  talk,  full  of  fun  and  feeling. 
"  A  handful  of  sunshine,"  her  husband  called  her,  and 
she  carried  her  household  and  maternal  responsibilities 
as  lightly  as  was  consistent  with  a  religious  valuation 
of  their  weight  and  worth.  Her  brother  looked  up 
brightly  at  her  approach,  and  she  lifted  a  menacing 
forefinger. 

"My  dear  boy!  have  you  no  mercy  on  your  eyes? 
Don't  you  know  when  blind-man's  holiday  begins  ?" 

He  wiped  the  pen  and  put  it  away ;  shook  the  sand- 
box over  the  wet  lines  of  the  page  just  written. 

"I  have  just  finished.  My  week's — and  my  year's 
work  is  done !" 

He  rested  his  head  against  her  shoulder,  as  she  put 
her  arm  behind  his  neck.  Dear  and  lovely  as  was  the 
younger  sister,  she  could  never  be  all  to  him  that  this, 
his  senior  by  three  years,  still  was.  I  caught  the  sigh 
of  relief  or  satisfaction — it  had  no  breath  of  weariness 
— that  escaped  him. 

"  A  hard  year's  work,  I  know.  Has  it  been  a  good 
one  ?" 

"  Better  than  I  dared  hope  for.  The  best  since  the 
management  of  the  estate  came  into  my  hands.  The 
crops  have  turned  out  finely.  You  heard  me  telling 
Tom  about  the  tobacco  last  night  ?  Wheat,  corn,  cot- 
ton have  done  quite  as  well ;  the  new  mill  and  cotton- 
gin  more  than  paid  for  themselves.  The  stock  is  in 
splendid  condition.  You  must  ride  down  to  the  far 
pasture  with  me  some  day  and  look  at  my  blooded  colts 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          113 

and  the  calves.  We  have  a  hundred  pigs  wintered  in 
the  pine-woods,  and  as  many  sheep  in  the  stable- 
meadow,  with  food  enough  to  carry  them  all  well  into 
the  spring.  Two  such  seasons  would  oblige  us,  if  not 
to  pull  down  our  barns,  at  least  to  put  up  more  and 
larger  ones.  Our  expenses  should  be  no  heavier  next 
year  than  this.  Wythe  enters  college,  but  Sterling  has 
graduated.  I  am  proud  of  that  boy's  independence, 
although  I  did  oppose  at  first  his  idea  of  teaching  school 
while  studying  law.  He  is  determined  to  pay  his  own 
way  henceforward,  he  says.  I  do  not  grudge  Bradley 
his  good  fortune,  but  I  wish  Sterling  had  such  a  situa- 
tion offered  him,  instead  of  an  old-field  school." 

He  had  pulled  his  sister  down  to  his  knee.  Her 
pretty  white  hand — the  family  were  noted  for  the  beauty 
of  their  hands — threaded  and  tossed  his  hair  while  they 
talked. 

"  Mr.  Bradley  is  to  have  a  private  class  in  Eichmond, 
isn't  he  ?" 

"Of  six  boys,  whom  he  is  to  fit  for  college.  The 
duties  will  not  occupy  more  than  half  the  day,  leavmg 
him  plenty  of  time  for  his  law  studies.  He  is  a  fine 
fellow,  and  deserves  the  best  that  can  be  done  for  him. 
We  shall  miss  him  sadly,  but  when  Wythe  goes  there 
will  be  no  more  need  of  a  tutor.  And  Bradley  can  do 
so  much  better  than  to  stay  here,  even  if  there  were 
younger  boys  to  be  educated." 

"  There  is  something  very  Manning  in  his  manner," 
answered  my  mother,  and  I  fancied  with  a  dry  edge  to 
her  accent.  "  He  impresses  me  as  one  who  is  sure  to 
make  his  way  in  the  world.  But  I  don't  feel  that  I 
know  him  very  well.  Tom  says  I  have  not  taken  kindly 
to  him  because  he  is  a  Yankee." 

"  He  is  a  thorough  gentleman — an  honorable,  high- 
minded  Christian  man,  whom  any  Southerner  might  be 


114  JUDITH: 

proud  to  call  '  friend. '  I  have  known  him  more  inti- 
mately than  any  other  of  our  tutors.  He  can  be  trusted 
to  the  world's  end,  and  to  death." 

"  If  all  I  hear  be  true,  you  are  not  the  only  member 
of  the  family  that  holds  that  opinion,"  rejoined  my 
mother.  u  I  have  my  suspicions." 

"Of  Aunt  Betsey  ?"  demurely.  "  So  have  I.  But  I 
make  it  a  rule  not  to  interfere  in  such  affairs.  Having 
eyes,  I  see  not ;  having  ears,  I  hear  not,  and  know  only 
what  I  am  told  in  so  many  words.  Of  one  thing  I  am 
certain,  and  that  is  all  I,  as  Aunt  Betsey's  guardian, 
need  know.  Bradley  would  never  abuse  the  advan- 
tages of  his  position  here,  whatever  his  feelings  may  be. 
And  it  is  a  serious  question,  Molly,  whether  or  no  a  man 
has  a  right  to  try  to  bind  another  by  an  engagement 
that  may  drag  on  for  years.  My  view  has  always  been 
that  he  should  have  the  foundations  of  the  house  laid,  or, 
at  any  rate,  some  notion  where  and  how  it  is  to  be  built, 
before  he  invites  a  tenderly -reared  girl  to  live  in  it." 

The  fair  fingers  closed  saucily  on  one  lock  of  hair, 
dealing  it  a  decisive  tweak,  under  which  he  winced  and 
laughed. 

"I  must  tell  you  of  a  talk,  Mr.  Worldly  Wiseman, 
that  I  had  the  other  day  with  Uncle  Hamilcar,  our  car- 
riage-driver, you  know.  He  has  just  married  a  woman 
twenty-five  years  younger  than  himself,  and  this  before 
Aunt  Sylvy,  his  first  wife,  had  been  four  months  in  her 
grave.  I  scolded  him  roundly,  as  was  my  duty  as  a 
woman  and  a  mistress.  I  told  him  his  conduct  was 
scandalous,  an  offense  to  taste  and  decency,  and  an  in- 
sult to  Sylvy's  memory.  He  was  humble  but  not  con- 
trite, and  prepared  forthwith  to  debate  the  case. 

"'I  did  'lot  'pon  waitiri'  'bout  a  year  mistis,'  he 
said,  '  to  show  propa  resentmen'  to  de  dear  deceasted, 
you  onderstan',  marm.  But,  as  I  look  at  de  case,  my 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          115 

mistis,  it 's  jes'  'bout  dis  way:  S'pose  you  was  a-stan'in' 
on  de  bank  o'  Jeemses  River,  an'  you  was  to  see  a 
moughty  big  snappin'-turkle,  what  you  knowed  would 
make  de  bes'  sort  o'  stew  an'  soup,  a-floatin'  down 
t'wards  you.  "Well,  you  don'  want  dat  ar  turkle  jes' 
dat  minnit.  Too  soon  arter  breakfuss,  maybe.  Maybe 
you  don'  want  him  dat  day.  You  got  plenty  bacon  in 
de  smoke-house.  But  yo'  know  in  yo'  soul  dat  de  time 
is  a-comin'  when  dat  ar  turkle  will  be  moughty  conve- 
nient fur  you  to  have  roun'  de  house.  An'  ef  you  don' 
cotch  him,  like  's  not  somebody  else  will,  an'  whar  you 
an'  yo'  stew  an'  yo'  soup  den  ?  Wouldn't  it  be  a  heap 
sensibler  in  you  fur  to  make  sure  o'  him  by  gittin'  holt 
o'  him  quick  's  you  ken,  an'  tyin'  him  to  a  stake  on  de 
bank  'ginst  you  want  him  ?  Dat  ar 's  de  very  thing  I 
been  gone  an'  done,  my  mistis.  Ef  I  hadn't  'a'  married 
Sally,  somebody  else  would  'a'  co'rted  her  while  I  was 
a-rno'rnin'  for  po'  Sylvy,  an'  den — dar  /' ' 

Uncle  Archie's  laugh  was  as  fresh-hearted  as  a  boy's. 

"  Moral,"  he  said  :  u  Bradley  would  do  well  as  a  pru- 
dent provider  to  make  sure  of — Aunt  Betsey — for  fear 
of  trespassers. " 

My  mother  shook  her  head. 

"  I  said  never  a  word  about  Mr.  Bradley.  My  mind 
is  running  upon  somebody  worth  fifty  such  men  as  the 
agreeable  pedagogue.  Don't  frown.  I  like  you  for 
praising  your  friend,  and  he  may  be  all  you  say,  yet  not 
your  equal  by  many  degrees.  Surely,  Archie — to  come 
down  to  practical  talk — you  ought  to  profit  by  present 
prosperity.  Even  the  small  percentage  of  the  proceeds 
of  sales,  etc.,  that  you  consented,  five  years  ago,  to  ac- 
cept as  your  share — you,  to  whom  the  estate  owes  so 
much,  should  justify  you  in  thinking  of  your  own  hap- 
piness. You  don't  mind  my  plain  speaking  ?  We  were 
boy  and  girl  together,  dear  I" 


116  JUDITH: 

"  Did  I  ever  '  mind '  anything  you  said  ?  I  wanted  to 
talk  to  you  on  this  very  subject.  Two  years  ago  I  got 
my  head  above  water.  Last  year  I  laid  hold  of  a  plank 
and  climbed  upon  it.  This  year  I  have  a  little  raft — 
not  a  smart  affair,  but  staunch.  I  hope,  and  sometimes 
believe  that  it  will,  in  the  course  of  another  year,  be 
big  enough  to  float  two  comfortably.  Provided  " — 
archly — "  the  second  passenger  is  not  very  heavy." 

His  sister  leaned  forward  and  kissed  him  in  the  middle 
of  his  forehead,  where  I  knew,  from  the  odd  constraint 
in  voice  and  manner  blent  with  his  forced  gayety,  that 
the  branching  vein  was  throbbing. 

"  Heavy  or  light,  she  will  be  a  very  happy  woman, 
brother !  She  is  a  dear,  warm-hearted  child ;  loving, 
sweet-tempered  and  pretty  enough  to  turn  even  this 
steady  head.  I  don't  deny  that  I  wanted  you  once  to 
marry  somebody  else,  but  I  am  quite  willing  to  believe 
that  you  are  a  better  judge  than  I  of  what  suits  you." 

"  Will  I  suit  her?  That  is  the  question  that  torments 
me  I"  broke  out  the  man  impetuously. 

Up  to  this  instant  I  had  been  aware  that  he  framed 
his  speech  in  the  recollection  that  I  was  within  ear- 
shot ;  that  his  mention  of  Aunt  Betsey's  name,  and  the 
figures  of  plank  and  raft  were  designed  to  bewilder  me 
into  loss  of  the  clue  to  the  real  personages  referred  to, 
should  I  be  listening  instead  of  being  absorbed  in  my 
book.  They  all  had  a  notion  that  when  I  plunged  into 
printed  matter  I  became  forthwith  deaf  and  blind.  They 
always  talked  before  me  with  a  freedom  that  would  have 
been  dangerous  had  I  not  been  trained  neither  to  inter- 
rupt the  conversation  of  my  elders  by  pert  questions  nor 
to  repeat  afterward  what  had  not  been  addressed  to  me. 
But  this  last  ejaculation  was  in  a  different  key — the 
minor  of  pain,  doubt,  longing,  thrilling  through  strong 
desire,  hope  and  thankfulness.  It  tingled  along  my 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         117 

nerves  like  the  shock  of  a  voltaic  battery,  and  brought 
the  first  misgiving"  that  I  had  no  right  to  be  where  I 
was. 

''  Her  views  on  this  subject  may  not  be  the  same  as 
mine,"  he  went  on,  using  the  plain,  practical  phrases 
habitual  to  him.  I  doubt  if  he  could  have  found  any 
others,  even  for  love-making.  "  She  is  such  a  dainty 
little  thing  I  refined  in  all  her  wa}'s,  and  used  to  ele- 
gances I  may  never  be  able  to  give  her,  however  good 
may  be  my  will.  I  seem  to  myself  sometimes  to  be 
nothing  better  than  a  clodhopper  in  her  presence ;  some- 
times a  clod  itself.  She  permits  me  to  be  her  friend. 
She  talks  freely — almost  confidentially — with  me,  as 
with  an  older  brother.  "Will  she  be  frightened — or  dis- 
gusted— when  I  speak  of  what  I  have  felt  for  her  ever 
since  she  was  a  school-girl  spending  her  summer  vaca- 
tions here  with  Maria  ?  Am  I  too  old,  too  sober,  not 
intellectual  enough  for  her  ?  I  turn  these  and  forty 
other  questions  over  in  my  mind  until  I  am  almost  dis- 
tracted." 

"  My  poor  boy  !  But  I  could  laugh  at  your  harrowing 
doubts  if  it  were  not  you  who  are  speaking.  I  know  she 
respects  and  likes  you.  Why  not,  by  one  bold  stroke, 
find  out  just  how  well  ?" 

"  I  have  had  no  right  to  speak  out  while  she  was  our 
guest.  Xo  right  to  speak  at  all  until  I  could  maintain 
her  comfortably.  In  what  I  am  disposed  to  think  are 
my  sanest  moments  I  am  ready  to  believe  that  it  would 
be  rank  presumption  in  the  best  man  that  ever  lived  to 
ask  a  girl  like  Virginia  Dabney  to  marry  him.  For  all 
that,  the  dearest  hope  I  have  in  this  world  is  that  I 
may  win  her  as  my  wife" — his  voice  sinking  in  a  rever- 
ent cadence. 

The  Bible-stand  toppled  over  with  a  resounding  bang, 
and  I  scrambled  up,  very  red  in  the  face,  very  weak  in 


118  JUDITH: 

the  knees,  and  uncertain  how  to  live  through  the  next 
minute. 

"JUDITH!" 

My  mother's  countenance  and  emphasis  revealed  a 
new  horror.  She  had  not  known  until  the  crash  came 
that  I  was  in  the  room  I 

"Indeed,  mamma,  I  came  out  as  soon  as  I  saw  he  had 
forgotten.  I  thought  you  saw  me  sitting  there  !  I  am 
so  sorry  !  Uncle  Archie  knew — " 

Tears  drowned  the  words. 

Uncle  Archie  picked  up  stand  and  Bible  and  restored 
them  to  their  places.  The  momentary  cloud  was  gone 
from  his  face  when  he  turned  to  me.  He  put  his  arm 
about  my  waist  and  gathered  me  up  close  to  him. 

"I  forgot  her  entirely,"  he  said  to  his  sister,  "al- 
though I  spoke  to  her  just  before  you  came  in.  She 
comes  and  goes  like  a  shadow,  always.  She  had  a  right 
to  be  here.  It  was  no  fault  of  hers  that  she  heard  what 
we  said.  And,  when  I  think  of  it,  I  don't  care  much, 
Sweetbrier.  You  are  a  sensible  little  woman,  who 
knows  how  to  hold  her  tongue.  I  have  trusted  you  be- 
fore this,  haven't  I  ?"  pulling  up  my  chin  that  he  might 
dry  my  eyes  with  his  own  handkerchief,  and  shedding 
into  their  wet  depths  the  sweet  brightness  of  a  smile 
that  made  him  to  me  the  handsomest  of  men.  "  I  am 
not  very  wise  about  signs,  but  I  don't  think  it  can  be 
lucky  to  cry  long  on  Christmas  Eve.  And  it  would 
never  do," — he  stooped  to  say  it  in  my  ear — "  for  Some- 
body to  think  we  are  not  glad  to  see  her." 

As  I  ran  up  stairs  to  bathe  my  face  and  brush  my 
hair,  I  heard  the  door  of  "  the  chamber  "  open,  and  in 
the  hall  the  voices  and  footsteps  of  my  father  and 
younger  uncles,  expectant  and  hospitable.  I  flew  to  an 
upper  window  in  time  to  see  the  carriage  at  the  gate  in 
the  wan  shimmer  cast  by  the  yellowish  clouds  where 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          119 

the  sun  had  gone  down.  Four  men  were  hurrying 
down  the  walk.  Mr  Bradley  sprang  out  before  they 
reached  the  gate.  An  imposing  bevy  attended  the 
young  ladies  to  the  house.  The  shorter  of  the  two  had 
my  Uncle  Stirling  on  one  side  and  my  father  on  the 
other.  The  stripling  Wythe,  her  vehement  admirer, 
walked  abreast  of  these,  carrying  her  shawl  and  hand- 
basket.  Mr.  Bradley  stayed  behind  to  superintend  the 
unpacking  of  the  chariot  he  had  seen  loaded  with 
Christmas  parcels.  He  drew  them  out  with  his  own 
hands,  and  gave  them  to  the  servants  in  waiting.  The 
wind  made  a  merry  mixture  of  voices  and  laughter. 
Uncle  Archie  gave  his  left  arm  to  his  weary  sister, 
brought  on  the  other  sundry  bundles  of  fragile  articles, 
too  precious  to  be  intrusted  to  rough  or  careless  bearers. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  CENTURY  and  three-quarters  agone — very  far  back 
in  the  seventeen  hundreds — there  lived  in  one  of  the 
midland  counties  of  Virginia  a  rich  Frenchman,  Pierre 
St.  Jean  by  name.  He  owned  a  fertile  plantation  and 
many  slaves,  and  worked  both  with  diligence  that 
earned  for  him  from  his  leisure-loving  neighbors  the 
title  of  "  miserly  skinflint."  He  had  neither  wife  nor 
child,  and  was  the  only  white  person  on  his  estate.  A 
traditional  anecdote  runs  that  an  inquisitive  neighbor 
plied  him,  when  he  was  in  his  eightieth  year,  with 
questions  as  to  the  disposition  he  intended  to  make  of 
his  hoards. 

The  old  man  was  sitting  in  his  porch,  overlooking 
cotton  and  tobacco-fields  specked  with  laborers,  low- 


120  JUDITH: 

grounds  of  corn  skirting  the  river,  and  uplands  waving 
with  golden  wheat  ready  for  the  scythe.  He  was  bent 
almost  double  with  age  and  rheumatism,  his  skin  was 
tan-colored  and  dry  as  a  drum-head,  but  his  beady  black 
eyes  snapped  wickedly  at  the  bore's  importunities. 

"  Sare  1"  he  snarled,  "in  all  ze  time  I  'ave  live'  in 
zis  so  villain  countree  I  'ave  save'  joos'  free  'undred 
pence.  I  s'all  leave  zis  in  mine  veel  to  my  grandrnozzer, 
who  still  live  in  Paree,  and  dance  at  ze  Court  balls." 

It  has  almost  passed  from  the  minds  of  those  now 
living  that,  up  to  the  year  1776,  the  Church  of  England 
was  the  "Establishment"  in  the  Old  Dominion  as 
really  as  in  the  Mother  Country.  Mr.  Jefferson, 
through  whose  bold  pressure  of  a  bill  for  the  "  Aboli- 
tion of  General  Assessment  for  the  Established  Church" 
all  denominations  were  put  upon  an  equal  footing,  says 
of  the  period  preceding  this  salutary  enactment : 

"In  process  of  time,  however,  other  sectarisms  were 
introduced,  chiefly  of  the  Presbyterian  family.  The  es- 
tablished clergy,  secure  for  life  in  their  glebes  and  sala- 
ries, adding  to  these  generally  the  emoluments  of  a 
classical  school,  found  employment  enough  in  their 
farms  and  school-rooms  for  the  rest  of  the  week,  and  de- 
voted Sunday  only  for  the  edification  of  their  flock  by 
service  and  a  sermon  at  their  parish  church.  Their 
other  pastoral  functions  were  little  attended  to.  Against 
this  inactivity  the  zeal  and  industry  of  sectarian 
preachers  had  an  open  and  undisputed  field,  and  by  the 
time  of  the  Revolution  a  majority  of  the  inhabitants 
had  become  dissenters  from  the  Established  Church,  but 
were  still  obliged  to  pay  contributions  to  support  the 
pastors  of  the  minority.  This  unrighteous  compulsion 
to  maintain  teachers  of  what  they  deemed  religious 
errors  was  grievously  felt  during  the  regal  government, 
and  without  a  hope  of  relief." 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          121 

Thomas  Jefferson  was  not  born,  and  public  men  had 
not  begun  to  bestir  themselves  to  right  the  wrong  of 
which  complaints  were  circulating  in  discontented 
whispers,  when  there  was  talk  of  erecting  a  parish 
church  in  the  godless  vicinage  in  which  Pierre  St.  Jean 
was  the  principal  land-holder.  At  the  first  breath  of 
the  project  he  astonished  the  county  by  offering  to  give 
the  ground  for  church  and  glebe-farm.  His  reasons  for 
the  action  were  substantially  the  same  with  those  that 
led  to  the  erection  of  the  little  church  at  the  gates  of 
the  Ferney  chateau. 

"  Ze  church  is  one  almost  as  good  t 'ing  as  ze  police,  "he 
represented  to  the  committee  who  were  collecting  funds 
lor  the  enterprise.  "  Ve  cannot  in  one  land  so  new  and 
savage  as  zis  'ave  ze  police ;  zen  ze  church  by  all  mean. 
I  a'all  send  all  my  servants,  and  veep  zem  if  zey  do  not 
go.  Perhaps  zey  veel  be  afraid  of  ze  priest,  and  ze  fire 
eternal,  and  steal  not  so  mooch  of  my  corn  and  peach- 
brandy." 

He  aroused  himself  from  his  customary  absorption  in 
bis  own  affairs  so  far  as  to  overlook  the  work  when 
•jegun.  The  vestrymen  favored  another  location  for 
the  church  and  encompassing  burial-ground  than  that 
xlesired  by  him,  but  he  carried  his  point.  The  building 
was  set  up  on  a  natural  bank  scarcely  twenty-five  yards 
from  the  highway,  and  within  sight  of  the  small  dwell- 
ing which  was  the  heart  of  the  Bienvenu  (pronounced 
"  Benvenew  "  by  the  neighbors)  tract.  The  glebe-farm 
and  parsonage  were  two  miles  away.  It  was  evident 
that  the  house  of  worship  was  designed  as  a  family 
chapel,  an  appanage  of  M.  St.  Jean's  estate.  Money 
and  stubbornness  won  the  day,  and  he  testified  a  sneer- 
ing consciousness  of  their  supremacy  over  consideration 
for  the  religious  welfare  of  the  community  by  register- 
ing in  the  deed  of  gift  that  the  church  was  made 


123  JUDITH: 

over  to  the  parish  by  "Pierre  St.  Jean's  will."  He 
said  by  his  "veel,"  and  by  the  passage  of  the  story 
through  many  mouths,  the  plain  wooden  structure 
perched  on  the  roadside,  although  formally  dedicated 
as  "St. Philip's,"  was  known  generally  as  "Old  Sing- 
ins  ville." 

After  the  disestablishment  it  became  by  degrees  "a 
free  church,"  i.  e.,  one  in  which  several  denominations 
had  acknowledged  right.  The  Methodists,  Baptists 
and  Presbyterians  each  held  services  in  it  one  Sunday 
in  the  month,  leaving  a  fourth  for  the  original  owners. 
When  a  fifth  Sunday  occurred  the  Episcopalians  took 
that  also,  by  a  sort  of  courteous  and  somewhat  pathetic 
recognition  of  their  former  lordly  estate.  The  four  sects 
assumed  the  duty  in  common  of  keeping  the  premises 
in  repair,  no  one  feeling  especially  obliged  to  see  that 
this  was  well  done. 

This  is  the  history  in  brief  of  "  Old  Singins ville,"  as 
it  is  known  to  this  day,  none,  except  the  neighborhood 
antiquarian  having  any  knowledge  of  the  title  of  which 
the  uncouth  appellation  is  a  perversion,  or  why  the  ad- 
jective of  age  is  prefixed. 

On  Christmas  Sunday  two  carriages  from  Summer- 
field  set  down  their  loads  at  the  church-door.  It  was 
an  ugly,  oblong  frame  house,  the  paintless  clap-boards 
and  shingles  dark-gray  at  their  underlapping,  shading 
into  black  at  the  outer  edges.  A  door  like  that  of  a 
barn,  and  two  long,  shutterless  windows  were  set  in  the 
gable  nearest  the  road ;  five  other  windows  on  each  long 
side,  and  two  more  in  the  farther  gable.  Between  these 
last  was  the  pulpit.  Farm-fences — the  well-known  rail 
zigzags — bounded  the  church-yard  on  the  north  and 
east.  The  west  end  of  the  building  backed  up  into  a 
pine  wood  that  ran  down  the  hill  to  a  creek  at  the  bot- 
tom. Toward  the  highway  the  area  was  open,  and  be' 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VLRQWIA.          123 

tween  this  and  the  church-door  all  vestiges  of  the 
grave-yard  had  been  obliterated.  Beyond  the  wheel- 
track  leading  to  and  from  the  steps,  tall  hickories  and 
oaks  had  shot  up  since  the  abolition  of  the  ancien  regime, 
heaving  flat  grave-stones  and  wrapping  their  roots  about 
the  forgotten  bones  below.  Here  and  there  a  tangle  of 
honeysuckle  and  white-rose  bushes,  the  scraggy  stems 
yellow  with  moss,  or  a  hardy  arbor-vitse  tree  bore  tes- 
timony to  love  that  had  watched  above  the  precious 
dust  a  long  generation  ago.  Old  Pierre  St.  Jean's  will 
decreed  that  he  should  be  buried  as  near  the  church  as 
the  grave  could  be  dug  without  injuring  the  foundation. 
He  had  slept  for  a  hundred  years  right  under  the  drip 
of  the  gutterless  eaves,  and  the  continual  dropping  had 
worn  away  the  two  lines  that  recorded  his  name,  birth 
and  death. 

The  negroes  believed  that  he  walked  on  winter  nights 
about  and  about  the  walls  raised  at  his  "vill,"  ban- 
ished from  Heaven  for  his  sins,  but  respited  from  the 
place  of  torment  at  certain  seasons,  that  he  might  look 
for  a  few  hours  upon  the  monument  of  the  solitary  good 
deed  he  had  performed  while  wearing  his  meagre  gar- 
ment of  flesh.  On  stormy  midnights  he  had  been  seen 
carrying  a  blue  lantern  slowly  around  the  church,  ex- 
amining the  foundation  stones  cemented  under  his  eye. 
While  they  held  together  his  imprisonment  was  to  have 
the  temporary  mitigation  of  these  earthly  visits.  His 
estate  had  been  sold  at  his  death  and  the  proceeds  sent 
to  an  address  in  France  given  in  his  last  will  and  testa- 
ment. The  plantation  was  parceled  into  three  free- 
holds. His  house  took  fire  in  the  night  and  burned  to 
the  ground  shortly  after  his  demise. 

Aunt  Betsey  had  told  me  the  tale  with  many  illus- 
trative incidents,  and  it  was  a  pearl  of  price  to  me 
pending  the  Sabbath  ministrations  of  such  godly  and 


124  JUDITH: 

long-winded  brethren  as  Rev.  Mr.  Watts,  the  Baptist 
incumbent,  and  our  own  pastor,  Mr.  Burgess.  There 
was  Presbyterian  preaching  twice  a  month  at  Mt.  Her- 
mon,  a  neat,  new  church  just  beyond  the  outskirts  of 
the  Summerfield  plantation.  On  the  remaining  Sab- 
baths we  took  such  chances  of  spiritual  profit  as  "free 
churches"  afforded. 

Given  board  and  charcoal,  I  could  reproduce  the  inte- 
rior of  the  edifice  on  the  site  of  which  now  stands  a 
hideous  rectangle  of  cheap  brick — still  "  Singinsville," 
and  sometimes  "New." 

The  benches  must  have  been  of  lignum-vitse,  or  pos- 
sibly petrified  wood,  for  no  others  were  ever  so  hard, 
and  had  never  known  the  touch  of  a  paint-brush.  The 
backs  were  carved  and  lettered  on  the  outside  with  in- 
dustry and  into  intricacy  rivaling  the  master-pieces 
wrought  with  tools  as  rude  by  monks,  with  nothing  else 
to  do,  on  stall  and  reredos  and  lectern,  in  medieval 
chapels.  Lovers'  knots  with  intertwined  initials ;  linked 
and  scarified  hearts  ;  horses  leaping  fences,  in  full  run, 
standing  with  and  without  riders ;  caricatures  of  the 
human  face  and  form  ;  dogs,  foxes,  birds — were  cut  or 
drawn  carelessly,  or  with  much  painstaking,  by  men 
whose  pockets,  from  six  up  to  eighty-six,  were  never 
without  a  stout  English  jack-knife.  The  side  of  the 
church  devoted  to  the  gentler  and  neater  sex  was  almost 
as  profusely  decorated  as  that  on  which  sat  their  hus- 
bands and  brothers — a  puzzle  explained  by  the  frequent 
use  of  the  building,  since  it  became  "free,"  for  political 
and  other  secular  assemblies.  One  of  the  many  inscrip- 
tions penciled  on  the  dingy  whitewash  of  the  walls  must, 
I  imagined,  have  been  written  during  service.  I  had 
settled  in  my  own  mind  that  it  was  done  while  Mr. 
"Watts  had  his  eyes  shut  in  "  the  long"- — oh,  how  long ! — 
prayer.  My  seat  on  this  Sunday  was,  as  I  liked  to  have 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          125 

it,  within  easy  eye-range  of  the  pessimistic  doggerel.    It 
was  engrossed  in  a  fair,  clerkly  hand,  and  ran  thus : 

"  Some  go  to  church  to  laugh  and  talk ; 
Some  for  a  pleasant  ride  or  walk  ; 
Some  to  show  the  last  new  dress ; 
Some  to  court  a  Kate  or  Bess ; 
Some  to  meet  a  business  friend  ; 
Some  the  heavy  hours  to  spend  ; 
Many  go  to  sleep  and  nod  ; — 
But,  ah  !  who  goes  to  worship  GOD  ?" 

I  used  to  fancy  the  cynical  smile  with  which  the  writer 
surveyed  the  congregation  between  the  lines.  He  must 
have  been  tall,  I  thought,  with  dark  hair  and  lively 
eyes.  His  coat  fitted  him  well ;  his  hand  was  elegant 
in  shape,  and  he  wrote  with  a  gold  pencil-case  like  Mr. 
Bradley's.  The  whole  proceeding  was  very  wicked,  as 
were  the  sacrilegious  etchings  on  wainscot  and  bench- 
backs.  Nevertheless,  I  was  as  exceedingly  glad  of  them 
as  Jonah  of  his  palm-christ  (which  was  not  a  gourd). 

This  was  Mr.  Watts'  day  in  course  at  Old  Singinsville, 
and  it  was  his  lank  ungainliness  that  undid  one  joint  at 
a  time  until  a  lugubrious  countenance,  set  off  into  gloom 
by  straight  hair  and  the  thick-set  roots  of  a  blue-black 
beard,  a  pair  of  round  shoulders  and  very  long  arms  in- 
cased in  a  rusty  black  coat,  were  visible  above  the  boxed- 
in  desk.  "We  will  begin  the  services  of  the  Lord's 
Day  by  singing  the  375th  hymn,"  he  plained,  as  one 
bewails  his  first-born. 

"  '  Show  pity,  Lord  !    Oh  Lord,  forgive  ! 
Let  a  repenting  sinner  live  !' 

The  words  are  so  familiar  that  I  deem  it  hardly  neces- 
sary to  give  out  the  lines." 

He  set  the  tune  himself — the  wildly -mournful  num- 
bers I  halted  but  yesterday  beneath  the  windows  of  a 
"  colored  church "  in  the  street  of  a  Northern  city  to 
hear.  The  audience  took  it  and  the  words  away  from 


126  JUDITH: 

him  before  he  finished  the  first  line,  bore  the  melody 
with  increasing  spirit  from  one  verse  to  another  until 
the  air  swayed  and  swung  with  it  from  wall  to  wall. 
Hardy  old  planters — their  hats  on  the  floor  between 
their  knees,  with  horsewhips  sticking  up  in  them,  like 
spoons  in  so  many  toddy-tumblers — gave  it  out  with 
the  blast  of  leathery  lungs,  beating  time  with  big  cow- 
skin  boots.  Their  delicate-featured  wives  sang  it  with 
closed  eyes,  folded  hands,  and  heads  gently  vibrative  to 
the  favorite  measure.  Aunt  Betsey's  tenor  skimmed  the 
levels  of  the  music  with  an  easy  lope  and  took  the  bar- 
leaps  like  a  bird.  Across  the  aisle  from  us  the  sonorous 
"brum-brum"  of  Uncle  Archie's  voice  supplied  the 
deeper  notes  that  had  else  been  wanting  from  the  really 
noble  harmony.  From  the  servants'  gallery  in  the  rear 
of  the  audience-room  poured  over  our  heads  a  thunder- 
ous rush  of  song. 

It  took  one-quarter  of  Brother  Watts'  long  prayer  to 
let  my  nerves  and  fancies  down  to  the  regulation  level 
of  sanctuary  dullness.  Our  Mr.  Burgess  once  informed 
a  youthful  theologue  in  my  hearing  that  "  the  monosyl- 
lable '  ACTS  '  formed  an  excellent  epitomical  guide  in 
the  composition  of  the  principal  prayer  offered  in  public 
worship.  This  should  begin  with  Adoration,  proceed 
to  Confession,  rise  into  Thanksgiving  and  close  with 
Supplication." 

After  which  I  held  to  the  private  belief  that  Mr. 
"Watts'  mnemonic  recipe  must  be  a  polysyllable  with 
never  a  letter  left  out.  Grown  men  stood  or  sat  at  their 
ease  while  he  wailed  from  station  to  station  of  the  peni- 
tential progress.  Devout  Presbyterian  women  bowed 
their  heads  upon  the  backs  of  the  seats  before  them.  Bap- 
tist sisters  sometimes — Methodists  and  Episcopalians 
always — knelt,  and  so  did  children  as  a  rule,  this  being 
the  easiest  posture  for  themselves  and  least  troublesome 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIBGWIA.         127 

to  their  guardians.  I  had  an  established  fashion  of 
settling  myself,  as  squarely  as  was  compatible  with 
human  anatomy,  upon  my  knees,  my  elbows  on  the 
stony-hearted  bench,  my  chin  in  my  hollowed  palms.  I 
could  keep  my  eyes  closed  for  perhaps  five  minutes, 
then  the  lids  arose  as  on  springs  and  refused  to  shut 
more.  Turn  about  I  might  not,  any  more  than  I 
might  rise  or  wriggle ;  but,  my  scooping  hands  serving 
as  blinders,  I  could  regard  whatever  went  on  immedi- 
ately behind  me,  as  seen  beneath  the  horizontal  rails  of 
the  seat-back.  It  was  a  genuine  comfort  when  the 
woman  who  occupied  this  space  wore  a  gayly-figured 
gown,  a  cross  when  it  was  black  silk,  an  offense  if  it 
chanced  to  be  a  sheenless  bombazine.  Once,  when  Miss 
Harry  Macon  sat  in  this  place,  she  opened  her  hymn- 
book  on  her  knee,  the  bottom  of  the  page  toward  me, 
holding  it  so  that  I  could  easily  read  it.  I  learned  two 
new  hymns  before  I  got  up.  I  always  liked  Miss  Harry 
after  that.  Usually,  however,  the  dead  numbness  of 
the  knees,  the  tingles  and  pricks  of  the  cramped  arms 
were  a  bagatelle  beside  the  dreary  vacuity  of  mind  that 
overtook  me  about  the  middle  of  the  prayer.  I  could 
not  remember  a  period  when  Mr.  "Watts  was  not 
droning  out  his  petitions,  or  forecast  a  time  when  he 
would  cease  to  pray.  If  I  aroused  myself  spasmodic- 
ally by  the  reflection  that  what  had  been  might  be 
again — that  I  had  felt  just  as  now  over  and  over  again, 
yet  lived  to  go  home  and  eat  my  Sunday  dinner  in  great 
peace  of  body  and  mind — the  relief  died  soon  before 
the  "staying  power"  of  the  good  man's  voice,  rising 
and  falling  like  an  evening  breeze  in  a  pine  grove,  with 
an  awful  earnest  of  endless  continuity  in  the  monotony 
of  its  moan. 

He  did  stop  to-day,  and,  as  heretofore,  just  in  season 
to  save  me  from  dissolution,  or  the  disgrace  of  "speaking 


128  JUDITB: 

out  in  meeting "  to  preserve  life  and  reason.  Then 
he  read  ten  sections  of  the  119th  Psalm,  and  "  lined 
out  "  a  second  hymn.  This  sung,  the  sermon  was  due. 
Instead  of  announcing  his  text,  he  unclosed  a  wide, 
thin-lipped  mouth  to  say,  in  the  same  doleful  key  that 
had  given  forth  hymn,  prayer  and  psalm : 

"I  am  rejoiced "(!)  "to  communicate  to  you  this 
morning,  my  dear  Christian  friends,  the  good  tidings 
that  our  beloved  Brother  Dudley,  whose  name  is  familiar 
to  you  all  and  whose  face  is  known  to  many,  whose  work 
in  the  vineyard  the  Master  hath  been  pleased  to  bless  in 
times  past  and  now,  is  with  us  to-day  by  an  enactment 
of  Divine  Providence,  and  will  preach  for  us  at  this 
time.  I  take  this  occasion  to  give  notice  that  I  expect 
to  preach  next  Sunday,  God  willing,  at  Muddy  Creek  ; 
on  the  second  Sunday  in  January  at  Red  Lane,  and  on 
the  third  Sabbath  of  that  month  at  Bethel." 

A  manifest  sensation  fluttered  his  dear  Christian 
friends  at  the  name  of  the  orator  of  the  day.  Glancing 
at  Grandma's  face  as  she  sat  erect  in  the  corner  of  the 
long  bench,  I  fancied  that  a  troubled  wave  broke  up  the 
solemn  calm  of  her  eyes.  Aunt  Betsey  raised  her  eye- 
brows in  response  to  Aunt  Maria's  apprehensive  look. 
The  corners  of  Miss  Virginia's  rosy  mouth  relaxed,  and 
she  shot  a  swift  flash  under  her  eyelids  over  the  way 
where  sat  Uncle  Archie  and  Mr.  Bradley.  Both  young 
men  saw  the  mirthful  appeal,  Uncle  Archie  meeting  it 
with  a  gleam  of  quiet  sympathy  in  her  amusement,  the 
other  in  undisguised  enjoyment  of  the  prospective  dis- 
course. As  Mr.  "Watts  had  said,  everybody  had  heard  of 
Brother  Dudley.  Nowadays,  he  would  be  called  a  "  hard- 
shell" and  a  "  sensation  preacher. "  In  that  era  of  noted 
revivalists,  he  was  considered  by  the  more  staid  of  even 
his  own  sect  as  eccentric.  Some  were  disposed  to  ques- 
tion the  expediency  of  suffering  him  to  continue  his 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         129 

official  ministrations.  Once,  after  some  unusually  ex- 
travagant expressions  on  his  part  and  of  boisterous  mer- 
riment on  that  of  certain  of  his  auditors,  he  was  cited  to 
answer  before  the  State  Association  for  "  unbecoming 
levity  of  speech,  approximating  irreverence."  He  re- 
ceived the  remonstrances  of  his  peers  with  humility,  but 
protested,  even  with  tears,  that  he  never  meant  to  say 
or  do  aught  derogatory  to  the  cause  he  presented  or  the 
sacred  desk  in  which  he  stood.  He  spoke  as  he  was 
moved  by  the  Spirit ;  but  they  must  not  forget  that 
Divinity  speaking  through  man  must  take  human  voice 
and  language. 

"  King  David  himself,  with  the  Chief  Musician  and 
Asaph  to  lend  a  hand,  couldn't  get  the  same  music  out 
of  a  banjo  as  out  of  his  harp,"  he  represented  in  his 
defense  ;  "  an'  even  the  breath  of  the  Lord  would  sound 
different  in  a  French  bugle  from  what  'twould  in  the 
'  toot !  toot !  TOOT  ! '  of  a  tin  dinner-horn  I" 

"  Brother  Dudley  !  Brother  Dudley  /"  called  the  chair- 
man. "You  are  guilty  again  of  the  very  impropriety 
with  which  you  stand  charged  I" 

The  rebuked  man  begged  pardon  penitently.  He 
would  endeavor  prayerfully  in  future  to  avoid  the  error 
he  had  just  proved  to  be  so  easily-besetting.  He  en- 
treated the  brethren  to  be  patient  with  him — above  all, 
not  to  deprive  him  of  the  glorious  privilege  of  preach- 
ing the  Gospel.  His  meat  and  drink  was  to  do  the  will 
of  Him  that  sent  him ;  his  thought,  hope,  prayer  that 
he  might  be  the  means  of  warning  his  fellows,  his  kins- 
men according  to  the  flesh,  to  flee  from  the  wrath  to 
come.  He  told  how  hard  he  worked,  how  poorly  he 
lived,  how  many  miles  he  rode  every  year,  how  many 
sermons  he  had  preached,  how  wistfully  he  sought  out 
ways  and  wiles  by  which  to  win  souls.  Hard  labor 
and  coarse  fare,  poverty  and  contempt  he  accounted  as 


130  JUDITH: 

nothing.  If  he  had  any  goods,  he  would  take  joyfully 
their  spoiling  if  so  be  he  might  secure  for  others  treas- 
ure in  Heaven.  He  wound  up  in  perfectly  good  faith 
in  this  wise : 

"  I  don't  pick  fine  words,  nor  stop  to  parse  sentences. 
So  long's  they  hold  together,  I  let  'em  fly,  knowin* 
thar  's  j'ints  in  every  harness  that  the  Lord  know* 
about,  ef  I  don't.  Throwin'  stones  out  o'  the  brook  is  my 
business — guidin'  'em  to  Goliath's  skull  is  the  Lord's. 
I  ain't  always  as  particular  maybe  as  I  oughter  be 
to  see  that  they  're  smooth  an'  to  wipe  off  the  mud  from 
them  on  my  coat-sleeve,  'specially  when  the  Philistine 
is  comin'  for  me  full  tilt,  an'  Israel  is  a-turnin'  their 
backs  to  the  enemy.  But,  bless  your  soul,  honey,  whar  's 
the  odds,  so  long  's  I  make  the  devil  run  like  smoke  ? 
I  'd  preach  corn-stalk-fiddle-an '-shoe-string-bow  ef  that 
kind  o'  lingo  would  save  sinners  !" 

The  chorus  of  a  popular  husking  ("  shucking "  in 
Virginia)  song  began  with  "  A  corn-stalk  fiddle  and  a 
shoe-string  bow,"  and  every  grave  divine  there  could 
have  whistled  it.  Brother  Dudley  was  admonished  to 
be  wary  of  speech,  yet  assured  that  he  retained  the  con- 
fidence and  respect  of  his  brethren,  and  dismissed  after 
a  prayer  from  the  most  dignified  member  of  the  body 
that  he  might  be  long  spared  to  the  world  and  the 
church. 

He  was  a  man  of  medium  height,  well  knit  together. 
His  hair  was  iron-gray,  and  bristled  up,  stiff  as  wires, 
over  shrewd  eyebrows.  His  eyes  were  full  and  keen, 
his  expression  quietly  benevolent  until  he  began  to 
speak.  His  cravat  was  loosely  tied,  and  he  had  a  trick 
of  tugging  at  it  when  excited  in  declamation  as  if  it  op- 
pressed his  breathing.  Other  men  wore  black  satin  or 
silk  stocks,  and  finical  people  objected  that  this  wisp  of 
a  'kerchief  about  his  throat  gave  him  an  affectedly  rakish 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         131 

air  unbecoming  his  office.  His  coat  was  baggy  and  the 
sleeves  too  short,  having  evidently  been  made,  and 
probably  worn,  by  a  fatter  man  who  was  not  so  tall  as 
the  present  owner.  His  voice  was  powerful  and  some- 
what harsh  in  the  upper  register.  The  lower  tones  were 
extremely  sweet  and  flexible. 

He  began  the  performances  on  this  occasion  by 
dragging  the  Bible  from  the  sloping  wooden  shelf  that 
was  the  pulpit  desk,  and  handing  it  to  Mr.  Watts,  who 
was  sitting  behind  him — a  significant  clearance  of  decks 
for  action. 

"  In  the  first  book  of  the  Bible,"  was  the  exordium, 
"  written  as  I  've  understood  by  Moses,  pretty  well  on 
towards  the  middle  of  the  book  an'  a  leetle  furder 
along  than  the  middle  of  a  chapter,  you  '11  find  these 
words — when  you  go  home  an'  look  for  'em  : 

"  '  The  sun  was  risen  upon  the  earth  when  Lot  entered 
into  Zoar. ' 

"  I  'm  not  goin'  to  tell  you  the  name  o'  the  book,  nor 
the  number  of  chapter  an'  verse.  I  mean  you  shall  do 
that  much  s'archin'  the  Scripters  for  yourselves.  I  'm 
mighty  afraid  some  o'  you  will  blow  off  dust  from  the 
leds  o'  your  Bibles  that  will  rise  up  a  cloud  o'  condemna- 
tion ag'inst  you  on  the  las'  day — a  thick  dust  that  won't 
let  you  see  the  face  o'  Him  that  sitteth  on  the  throne. 
A  neglected  Bible  is  dumb  enough  now.  It  lies  as  still 
as  a  roach  in  the  bottom  of  a  mill-pond  just  whar  you 
laid  it  down  the  las'  time  you  were  in  trouble — the  night 
your  wife  died,  or  your  boy  had  the  croup,  or  maybe 
when  the  sun  shone  so  blue  las'  summer.  You've  piled 
other  books  on  it  an'  it  never  groaned  nor  stirred — not 
so  much  as  to  rustle  the  Whig  nor  the  Enquirer,  nor  the 
almanac  that  lays  atop  of  all — the  things  you  do  read 
an'  take  an  int'rest  in. 

"The  fifth  prophet  before  the  New  Testament  tells 


i32  JUDITH: 

us  of  a  time  when  the  stone  shall  cry  out  o'  the  wall, 
an'  the  beam  out  o'  the  timber  shall  answer  it.  But 
that  outcry  will  be  like  the  singin'  of  a  black  gnat  in 
your  ear  compared  with  the  awful  shout  that  will  go  up 
from  a  fam'ly  Bible  that's  never  looked  into  except 
when  somebody  's  born  or  married  or  dead,  or  almost 
skeered  out  o'  his  senses. 

"  My  text  is  thar,  whether  you  look  for  it  or  not ! 

"  '  The  sun  had  risen  upon  the  earth.'  And  what  o' 
that  ?  If  thar  's  one  thing  more  certain  than  death 
an'  sin  an'  sorrow  in  this  world  it  is  that  the  sun  's 
a-goin'  to  rise  in  the  mornin'.  I  '11  bet  my  head  'most  all 
o'  you  say  more'n  once  every  week  o'  your  lives, '  Sure 's 
the  sun  will  rise  to-morrow. '  As  if  you  'd  bespoke  it 
an'  paid  your  cash  down  to  the  showman  !  Like  's  not 
'twas  just  as  pat  a  saying  in  Sodom.  '  I  '11  pay  you  that 
debt  sure 's  the  sun  rises  to-morrow  mornin','  says  one 
the  night  befo'  that  day  o'  burnin'  an'  brimstone  an' 
gnawin'  o'  tongues  for  pain,  when  the  wicked  cities 
were  wiped  clean  off  the  face  o'  the  globe  like  you  'd 
take  a  drop  o'  tar  off  the  hub  of  a  wheel  with  a  greasy 
rag — wiped  off  and  th  rowed  away  for  all  time. 

'"I  love  you,  sure 's  the  sun  '11  rise  an'  set  to-mor- 
row,' says  another,  lookin'  into  his  sweetheart's  blue 
eyes.  An'  another  shakes  his  fist  in  his  enemy's  face 
an'  says,  '  I  '11  be  even  with  you  for  this  certain  as  the 
sun  '11  rise  to-morrow  !' 

"  Well,  the  sun  is  up  I  He 's  cleared  the  tops  o'  the 
pine  trees  on  the  mountains  over  yonder,  an'  a-shinin' 
hot  an'  bright  'cross  the  plain,  on  streets  full  o'  folks, 
marryin'  an'  givin'  in  marriage,  an'  buyin'  an'  sellin' 
an'  eatin'  an'  drinkin'.  On  the  rascally  gang  that  was 
hullabalooin'  under  Lot's  winders  las'  night.  On  Lot's 
sons-in-law,  a-splittin'  their  sides  a-laughin'  at  the 
'  ole  man's  new  maggot  in  the  brain,'  arfter  they  'd  seen 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         133 

him  an'  his  wife  an'  two  single  daughters  a-runnin'  out 
o'  the  gates,  licketysplit  for  the  mountain,  skeered  for 
nothin' !  An'  not  one  o'  the  thousan's  o'  sinners  seen 
death  hangin'  over  his  head  in  that  black  cloud  a-rollin* 
up  in  the  west,  spittin'  out  lightnin's  an'  roarin'  with 
the  blast  of  hell !  They  took  life,  an'  meant  to  take 
eternity,  as  easy  as  you  do  who  come  here  to-day  in 
your  cushioned  carriages  or  on  your  slick  horses,  sayin' 
how  lucky  it  was  the  weather  had  changed  so  's  to  give 
you  a  pleasant  Sunday,  an'  how  much  store  you  set  by 
the  fourth  Sunday  at  Old  Singinsville,  for  everybody 
and  his  wife  is  sure  to  be  there  for  you  to  see. 

"  They  didn't  see  destruction,  but  it  overtook  them  I 
Not  one  head  will  be  lifted  out  o'  the  Dead  Sea  on  the 
evenin'  o'  the  day  they  met  so  gayly — the  sea  that 's 
nothin'  but  a  pot  o'  pitch,  hot  with  the  wrath  of  the 
Almighty — to  look  the  red  sun  in  the  face  and  say, '  I  '11 
forsake  the  works  o'  darkness  an'  turn  with  my  whole 
heart  to  the  Lord,  sure  as  that  sun  will  rise  to-mor- 
row I'  Charred  corpses  cannot  repent ;  ears  stopped  with 
b'ilin'  slime  couldn't  hear  if  the  Lord  of  Life  was 
standin'  on  the  edge  of  the  smokin'  pit  Abraham  saw 
a-steamin'  up  to  Heaven,  miles  an'  miles  off,  an'  callin', 
'  Look  unto  Me  and  be  saved !' 

"  O  thou  long-sufferin'  an'  pitiful  Saviour !  who  would 
not  that  any  should  die,  but  that  all  should  come  to 
Thee  for  salvation  I  Is  it  then  true  that  thar  is  a  limit 
to  the  day  of  mercy  ?  The  grave  cannot  praise  Thee  ; 
death  cannot  celebrate  Thee  •,  they  that  go  down  to  the 
pit  cannot  hope  for  Thy  truth ! 

"  That  risin'  sun  saw  Somethin'  in  the  middle  o'  the 
plain  that  war'n't  thar  when  he  went  down  las'  night. 
Somethin'  white  as  the  drifted  snow,  that  yet  war'n't 
soft,  nor  pure,  nor  cold.  Somethin'  hard  an'  shiny  as 
marble,  that  no  builder  would  tech  with  hammer  nor 


134  JUDITH: 

chisel  ef  thar  war'n't  another  rock  in  a  thousan'  miles. 
For  it  was  a  woman  ten  minutes  ago.  A  woman  that 
loved  her  husban'  an'  children,  or  she  wouldn't  'a'  come 
out  o'  Sodom  even  at  the  angels'  order  ;  a  woman  that 
run  well  for  a  while  an'  then — looked,  back  I  That  was 
her  sin.  It  must  'a'  been  a  great  sin,  or  it  wouldn't  'a' 
been  so  terribly  punished,  for  the  Lord  always  leans  to 
the  side  o'  mercy.  Thar  were  plenty  o'  reasons  why 
she  mought  'a'  looked  over  her  shoulder  to  the  losin'  of 
her  soul — women's  reasons,  every  one  of  'em  I  She  'd 
left  a  heap  of  things  in  that  town  that  women  think 
valuable.  Her  furniture  an'  fine  clothes — her  Sunday 
bonnet — an'  neighbors  an'  married  daughters.  She 
mought  easily  have  reasoned  it  out  to  herself  arfter  she 
got  her  breath  an'  wits  together,  that  'twas  unjust  an' 
cruel  to  yank  her  out  o'  her  home  so  sudden  befo'  she 
could  so  much  as  pick  up  her  key-basket.  Maybe  she 
had  gran'ohildren,  with  their  innercent,  coaxin'  ways, 
as  dear  to  her  as  that  sweet  little  thing"  (pointing  to  a 
child  in  the  front  seat  that  had  fallen  asleep  on  her 
mother's  lap)  "is  to  you,  my  sister.  As  beautiful  in 
in  her  sight  as  the  crowin',  kickin'  youngster  you  kissed 
in  his  cradle  befo'  you  come  to  the  house  o'  God  this 
inornin',  my  dear  madam  I 

"  Maybe,  ag'in,  Lot's  wife  wanted  to  see  ef  the  jedg- 
ment  had  fallen  yet  upon  the  roofs  an'  chimneys  she 
knew  so  well — ef  her  house  teas  burnt  with  fire  an'  all 
her  pleasant  places  laid  waste.  P'raps — onct  mo' — 
she  didn't  half  believe  what  the  angels  had  tole  her,  an' 
hadn't  so  much  respec'  for  her  husban's  opinion  as  to 
take  his  word  ag'inst  her  sons-in-law's.  I  've  seen  sech 
women — yes !  an'  more  men  who  didn't  order  their 
households  so  well  as  to  entitle  them  to  duty  and  obedi- 
ence. Guessin'  an'  sposin'  an'  wonderin'  are  idle 
words  now  when  she  's  been  a  pillar  o'  salt  for  thou- 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          135 

sands  o'  years.  It 's  enough  for  us  to  know  the  solemn 
lesson  that  she  flew — a  poor,  silly,  mealy-winged  moth — 
in  the  face  o'  the  Lofd  an' — suffered  accordin'ly  ! 

"An'  whar,  let  me  arsk  in  the  nex'  place,  was  Lot  all 
this  time  ?  Lot — the  one  righteous  man  who  mought 
'a'  saved  even  guilty  Sodom  ef  Abraham  had  stood  to 
his  guns  a  minute  longer  an'  not  taken  too  much  for 
granted  ?  Lot — that  had  sot  on  the  knees  of  his  uncle, 
the  Friend  o'  God,  hundreds  o'  times  at  family  prayers  ? 
Lot — that  Abraham  had  fought  (with  only  one  hundred 
an'  eighteen  nigger  servants !)  four  kings  for,  an' 
brought  back  safe  an'  sound  with  all  his  goods  ?  Lot — 
that  had  seen  Melchizedech,  a  greater  than  Abraham, 
an'  heard  his  blessin' — even  the  blessin'  of  him  who, 
Paul  says,  was  '  Priest  o'  the  Most  High  God,  King  of 
Righteousness,  and  after  that,  King  of  Salem,  which  is 
King  of  Peace '  ?" 

At  this  moment  an  extraordinar}'  Interruption  oc- 
curred. 


186  JUDITH: 


'  CHAPTEE  IX. 

A  MAN  walked  up  the  aisle  of  the  church  with  a 
horse-block  on  his  shoulder.  A  horse-block — be  it 
known  to  the  modern  citizen — is  a  log  of  wood  sawed 
across  the  grain  and  set  upright  on  the  ground,  to  be 
used  by  women  and  short-legged  boys  in  mounting  to 
their  saddles.  There  was  always  one  large  one,  with 
two  or  three  lower  logs  arranged  as  steps,  near  every 
church-door.  Several  single-barreled  ones  stood  under 
the  trees  at  Old  Singinsville,  varying  in  height  from 
eighteen  inches  to  two  and  a-half  feet.  One  of  these, 
a  stout  block  of  hickory,  the  late  comer  lowered  from 
his  shoulder  in  the  open  space  surrounding  the  pulpit — 
the  chancel  on  Episcopalian  Sundays — and  close  to  the 
big  iron  stove  that  heated  the  building.  This  settled 
to  his  liking,  he  shook  himself  like  a  water-dog,  and  a 
camlet  cloak  of  red-and-green  plaid  dropped  away  from 
him,  displaying  a  full  suit  of  yellow  flannel — an  ugly, 
vicious,  brimstone  yellow,  almost  matched  by  a  head  of 
coarse,  foxy  hair.  His  skin  had  the  hard  flush  of  the 
habitual  drunkard.  Not  a  glimpse  of  white  showed 
above  a  black  stock,  and  on  his  feet  were  boots  of  un- 
dressed calfskin  of  the  same  general  complexion  as  his 
clothes. 

He  was  an  eerie  and  revolting  apparition  in  the  well- 
dressed  and  well-mannered  congregation.  Captain  Ma- 
con  half  arose  from  his  seat,  his  fingers  closing  nervously 
on  his  riding-whip,  when  the  cloak  fell  off,  perhaps  in 
resentment  of  the  possible  caricature  of  his  scarlet  coat. 
Every  gentleman  in  the  house  was  on  the  alert  to  check 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          137 

more  overt  insult  to  the  place  and  audience.  Thus  far, 
the  man  had  not  laid  himself  open  to  reproof  or  chastise- 
ment. His  garb  was  peculiar  in  color,  but  so  was  Cap- 
tain Macon's,  and  since  the  benches  were  all  full  he 
had  a  right  to  provide  a  seat  for  himself.  He  was  per- 
fectly grave  in  aspect,  even  when  he  put  both  feet  on 
the  low  box  filled  with  sand  surrounding  the  stove,  took 
a  handful  of  peanuts — otherwise  "ground"  or  "goober- 
peas" — from  his  pocket,  and  began  to  eat  them  vigor- 
ously, tossing  the  shells  among  the  tobacco-quids,  in 
various  stages  of  desiccation,  that  besprinkled  the  sandy 
surface. 

Some  present  knew  enough  of  him  to  grasp  the  situa- 
tion at  sight.  His  name  was  Roger  Jones  ;  but  he  had 
deservedly  won  the  title  of  "  Rowdy  Roger"  by  drunken 
pranks  and  general  disreputableness.  In  July  of  this 
year  he  had  disturbed  the  decorum  of  a  "  protracted 
meeting"  by  unseemly  antics,  and  been  severely  and 
publicly  rebuked  by  Mr.  Dudley.  The  fellow  had  stood 
up  in  his  place  and  offered  to  fight  the  preacher  then 
and  there. 

"  Sit  down,  young  man !"  was  the  stinging  retort. 
"  I  am  too  busy  with  bigger  game — to  wit,  the  devil — to 
waste  time  mashing  fleas." 

The  poor  creature  had  actually  obeyed  in  utter  abash- 
ment, under  the  stern  eyes  of  the  speaker  and  the  laugh 
called  forth  by  the  reply,  but  from  that  day  had  cudgeled 
his  fuddled  brains  to  devise  fresh  means  of  persecution 
of  his  opponent,  following  him  from  place  to  place  to 
practice  low  tricks  by  which  to  distract  the  notice  of 
Mr.  Dudley's  congregations  without  putting  himself 
within  reach  of  the  law.  Those  of  the  audience  who 
had  not  heard  the  story  supposed  him  to  be  a  lunatic  or 
fool,  without  suspecting  the  animus  of  the  witless  freak. 

Not  a  line  of  the  minister's  face  betrayed  conscious- 


138  JUDITH: 

ness  of  his  entrance.  When  the  increasing  solemnity 
of  tone  and  manner  recalled  the  senses  of  his  hearers, 
he  was  using  Sodom  as  a  type  of  the  city  of  destruction, 
and  describing  three  classes  who  were  warned  to  escape 
therefrom : 

First,  the  openly  profane  and  reckless,  as  illustrated 
by  Lot's  sons-in-law,  and  the  vain  fellows  composing 
the  nocturnal  mob. 

Secondly,  those  who  hearing  the  alarm  heeded  it  so 
far  as  to  begin  their  flight,  then  turned  again  with 
longing  to  their  sins.  Vide  Lot's  wife. 

Thirdly,  worldly,  careless  Christians,  who  had  been 
lured  by  wealth  and  pleasure  into  dwelling  in  the  tents 
of  wickedness,  and  were  saved,  so  as  by  fire.  He  said 
"  by  the  skin  of  their  teeth." 

"We  will  deal  with  these  last  first,"  he  continued 
when  the  heads  were  stated.  "I  have  been  given  to 
understand  that  they  are  as  plentiful  in  these  fat  low- 
grounds  an'  rich  tobacco  lands  'round  about  Old  Sing- 
insville  as  persimmons  in  Fluvanna,  an'  watermillions 
in  Hanover,  an'  sweet  potatoes  in  K"ansemond  County. 
Speritual  laziness  has  been  the  natural  consequence  o' 
high  livin'  ever  sence  Jeshurum  waxed  fat  an'  kicked 
arfter  he  'd  been  fed  upon  honey  an'  oil,  butter,  milk, 
fat  lambs,  wheat  flour  an'  the  juice  o'  the  grape.  I 
haven't  seen  more  store  clothes  in  a  country  church  in 
a  month  o'  Sundays  than  I  am  lookin'  at  now.  Jere- 
miah mought  'a'  made  out  his  list  o'  the  contraptions 
worn  by  the  daughters  o'  Zion  in  his  time  without 
budgin'  from  these  pulpit-steps,  writin'  on  a  sheet  o' 
paper  laid  on  the  top  o'  his  hat." 

He  told  us  how  "Lot,  half-hearted  toward  God, 
whole-hearted  toward  Mammon,  vexed  his  soul  from 
day  to  day  with  his  neighbors'  unlawful  deeds,  yet  stood 
it  out  because  he  made  money  out  o'  these  sinners.  He 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         139 

had  driven  a  sharp  bargain  with  easy  old  Abraham 
when  he  chose  the  plain  o'  Jordan,  watered  like  the 
garden  of  the  Lord,  an'  let  the  uncle  that  had  brought 
him  up — an  orphan  boy — scratch  a  livin'  out  o'  the 
sand  an'  broom-straw  of  Mamre.  It  never  entered  the 
smart  Jew's  head  that  the  Lord  would  use  the  dusty 
roads  in  which  Abraham  traveled  ankle-deep  to  give 
him  some  notion  of  the  multitude  of  his  descendants ; 
that  the  sandy  bottoms  where  he  'd  pitched  his  tent 
under  the  one  scrub-oak  that  could  make  out  to  live 
there  would  be  trodden  by  His  blessid  feet.  It 's  a  pretty 
safe  thing,  in  the  long  run,  to  trust  the  Almighty  for 
bread  and  butter.  There  's  hundreds  that  call  them- 
selves believers  who  can't  do  that.  They  look  out  for 
their  bodies,  but  commit  the  keepin'  o'  their  souls  unto 
Him.  I  don't  know,  sometimes,  but  'twould  be  fa'r  to 
take  their  souls  at  their  own  valuation,  ef  we  're  to 
judge  from  the  care  they  take  of  'em.  In  that  case, 
forty-seven  of  'em  could  play  '  prisoner's  base '  on  a 
seed-tick's  back,  an'  never  hit  each  other's  elbows !" 

He  painted  Lot  "lingering  lingerin',  loath  to  travel 
with  his  foot  in  his  hand,  as  the  sayin'  is,  when  he  had 
money  in  the  Sodom  an'  Gomorrah  bank,  besides  real 
estate,  an'  nobody  knows  how  many  head  o'  cattle. 
Lingerin'  an'  whinin'  until  even  the  angels  los'  patience, 
an' — mark  the  words  ! — '  the  Lord  being  merciful  unto 
him,'  they  laid  holt  o'  him  an'  dragged  him  out  by  the 
nape  o'  the  neck.  Then  in  the  plain,  the  comin'  tem- 
pest hello  win'  in  the  distance,  he  begged  to  be  allowed 
to  go  to  Zoar.  '  Sech  a  little  bit  of  a  town  !'  he  argers. 
'  Hardly  worth  the  trouble  o'  burnin'  up,  nor  the  brim- 
stone 'twould  take  to  do  it  I'  But  it  was  a  city,  an'  he 
didn't  take  to  the  notion  o'  livin'  in  the  mountains, 
where  thar  warn't  a  neighbor  in  half  a  mile.  That 's 
J^>  %11  over !  To  this  day  they  've  no  taste  for  the 


140  JUDITH: 

country.  Trade  in  men's  souls  ain't  lively  enough  for 
them  there.  Noi  that  country  Christians  don't  improve 
their  opportunities  for  hackslidin'.  An'  wagons  ain't 
apt  to  stall  goin'  down  hill,  even  in  sech  stiff  mud  as 
that  in  the  road  leading  to  the  creek  yonder.  The  devil 
knows  he  can  take  care  of  the  lead  horse  when  the  load 
gets  fa'rly  started  down. 

"But  you'll  tell  me  that  Lot  was  saved;  that  he 
couldn't  be  lost,  seein'  he  was  truly  a  child  o'  God ; 
that  your  callin'  an'  election's  sure.  Ef  thar's  one 
trick  meaner  'n  another  upon  the  pock-marked  face  o' 
this  cranky  old  earth,  it  is  sneakin'  behind  the  '  perse- 
verance o'  the  saints '  in  order  to  have  an  excuse  for 
sin.  The  Lord  has  you  under  the  covert  o'  His  wings ; 
tharfore  you  can  wound  the  Saviour  in  the  house  o'  His 
friends.  He 's  drawn  you  out  o'  the  horrible  pit  an'  the 
miry  clay  an'  set  your  feet  upon  the  Rock  of  Ages — an' 
you  cut  a  pigeon-wing  to  the  scrapin'  o'  Satan's  fiddle  ! 
Now,  let  me  give  you  a  plain  piece  o'  my  mind  !  The 
man  that  can  reason  an'  feel  in  that  way  had  better 
look  mighty  keerful  at  his  'listment  papers.  Maybe, 
my  easy  citizen  o'  Zion,  you  've  got  holt  o'  the  wrong 
dockerment.  Somebody  else  has  been  called,  an'  you  've 
answered  ;  an'  as  for  your  election,  it  won't  stan'  in  the 
Supreme  Court.  A  real  believer  don't  want  to  sin. 
Put  that  in  your  pipe  an'  smoke  it !  I  can't  think  so 
bad  o'  Lot,  money- worshippin'  Jew  as  he  was,  as  to 
b'lieve  that  he  ever  put  it  squar'  before  him  that  he  was 
doin'  wrong.  You  recollect  the  man  in  'Pilgrim's 
Progress '  that  was  robbed  on  the  road  to  the  Celestial 
City  ?  The  thieves  didn't  get  his  jewels — that  is,  his 
title-deeds  to  heaven.  They  were  hid  too  safe.  But 
they  stole  all  his  spendin'-money — the  loose  change  he 
had  for  travelin'  expenses,  tavern  fare,  an'  horse  hire 
an'  so  on.  That 's  the  way  with  you  sleepy,  take-it- 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          141 

comfortably,  yea-nay  Christians.  You  are  beggin'  your 
way  to  the  New  Jerusalem.  On  Sundays  you  get  a  bone 
the  Marster  has  thrown  over  His  shoulder  from  one  o' 
the  children's  plates.  You  pick  up  a  dry  crust  of  a  hoe- 
cake  at  a  pra'r-meetin'.  Onct  in  a  while,  at  a  rousin' 
revival,  when  others  are  enjoyin'  a  feast  o'  fat  things, 
you  say,  '  Thanky,  my  Marster !'  for  a  fa'r  plate  o' 
bacon  an'  greens.  You  are  never  full — never  in  good 
order.  Your  ribs  stare  you  in  the  face,  an'  you  deefen 
the  ears  o'  the  Lord's  faithful  ones  with  the  howls  o' 
'  My  leanness  I  my  leanness  !'  I  haven't  a  doubt  now 
that  ef  the  eyes  o'  all  in  this  house  could  be  opened 
this  blessid  minute  to  discern  speritual  bodies,  we 
should  see  about  us  enough  rack-a-bone  skeletons,  fes- 
tooned with  filthy  rags  o'  self-righteousness,  to  scare 
away  all  the  crows  this  side  o'  the  Blue  Ridge." 

His  dealing  with  the  almost-saved  was  yet  more  faith- 
ful, and  mingled  with  a  tenderness  of  protest  that  found 
no  place  in  his  treatment  of  avowed  scoffers — defiant 
blasphemers. 

"  Brother  "Watts  !"  he  said  abruptly,  turning  to  him, 
"  please  open  that  Bible  at  the  tenth  Psalm,  thirteenth 
verse,  and  first  clause  o'  the  fourteenth,  an'  rise  up  an' 
read  what  you  find  thar.  Thar  may  be  some  here  who 
wouldn't  b'lieve  that  I  read  it  right." 

He  stepped  aside.  Mr.  Watts,  in  no  wise  discon- 
certed by  the  singular  requisition,  got  up  and  spread 
the  bulky  volume  on  the  sloping  shelf.  "While  he  turned 
the  leaves  slowly  in  quest  of  the  passage,  we  heard  the 
cracking  of  the  goober-pea  shells  in  the  horny  fingers  of 
the  man  in  yellow,  the  crunching  of  the  nuts  between 
his  jaws,  so  profound  was  the  silence.  Mr.  "Watts' 
quavering  wail  gave  the  solemn  words  : 

"  '  "Wherefore  do  the  wicked  contemn  God  ?  He  hath 
said  in  his  heart,  Thou  wilt  not  require  it !' 


143  JUDITH: 

"  '  Thou  hast  seen  it !  For  Thou  beholdest  mischief 
and  spite  to  requite  it  with  Thy  hand.'  " 

"  Thank  you,  brother  !"  Mr.  Dudley  advanced  again 
to  the  front.  "Now,  how  many  of  you  noticed  next  to 
the  last  word  in  that  first  sentence — that  word,  '  con- 
temn ?'  Thar  's  another  word  so  much  like  it  in  sound, 
I  'm  afraid  some  o'  you  mought  not  'a'  understood  that 
thar  's  a  i,  an'  not  a  of  in  this  one.  It  means  to  neglect, 
to  treat  slightingly,  to  despise.  The  wicked  contemn 
God.  He  hath  said  in  his  heart,  '  Thou  wilt  not  re- 
quire it. '  Kequire  what  ?  The  slights  you  ' ve  heaped 
upon  His  word,  upon  His  Sabbath,  upon  His  laws,  upon 
the  mercy  an'  love  an'  bloody  sacrifice  o'  His  blessid 
Son.  You  've  gone  swingin'  'long  the  middle  o'  the 
road,  whistlin'  jig-tunes,  kickin'  opportunities  an'  priv- 
iliges  an'  warnin'  judgments  out  o'  the  way  like  they 
were  so  many  gravel-stones,  tramplin'  down  all  holy 
an'  precious  things  like  you  would  gimsen'-weed  an' 
pursley.  But  there  is  One  who  has  seen  and  kept  tally 
o'  every  despised  offer  o'  grace,  every  chance  o'  salva- 
tion. The  time  is  comin'  in  which  you  '11  see  'em  all 
ag'in,  piled  into  a  mountain  whose  top  shall  reach  the 
skies,  thunderin'  an'  lightnin'  like  Sinai,  an'  fallin'  over 
on  your  frightened  soul  to  bury  it  a  million  fathoms 
deep  in  the  bottomless  pit.  '  An'  the  smoke  of  their 
torment  ascended  up  forever.'  Thar '11  be  no  end  to 
the  burnin'  o'  that  Sodom,  not  even  a  Dead  Sea  of  for- 
getfulness  to  put  out  the  fire  and  the  memory  of  them 
who  are  wallowin'  in  it.  You  have  laughed  when  your 
mother  or  your  wife  begged  you  with  strong  cryin'  an' 
tears  to  stop  in  your  evil  courses.  My  merry  friend,  the 
Lord  has  put  those  tears  in  His  bottle,  an'  every  drop 
will  be  a  blister  upon  your  naked  soul.  Each  slighted 
prayer  and  sermon  will  hang  like  a  mill-stone  about 
your  neck,  while  you  're  sinkin'  down !  down  I  DOWN  I 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         143 

You  have  '  pooh-poohed  I '  at  the  prayers  an'  warnin's 
an'  teachin's  o'  God's  ministers,  puffin'  them  away  like 
boys  blow  off  dandelion  seed,  but  the  harvest  shall  be  a 
heap  in  that  day  o'  grief  an'  desperate  sorrow.  Oh,  my 
soul !  enter  not  thou  into  the  secret  of  him  who  destroys 
himself,  who  laughs  an'  jokes  while  he  slams  the  door 
of  mercy  in  his  own  face,  locks  it  an'  throws  away 
the  key  ! 

"  For  He  will  require  it !  Mark  that !  He  has  seen 
it.  Mischief  an'  spite  to  requite  it  with  His  hand.  Do 
you  know  what  that  means  ?  Have  you  ever  pulled  up 
long  enough  on  the  down-hill  road  to  say  to  yourself 
what  the  weight  o'  that  hand  is  ?  The  Hand  that 
measures  the  heavens  as  you  shut  your  fingers  'round 
your  wine-glass  ;  that  taketh  up  the  isles  like  you  pinch 
up  the  few  grains  o'  powder  you  spilt  on  the  table  in 
loadin'  your  gun  ;  that  holds  the  seas  as  you  scoop  up 
water  from  a  spring  in  your  palm.  Dare  you  resk  a 
blow  from  it  ?  I  want  you  to  put  that  question  to  your- 
self in  silence  one  minute.  Go  down  on  the  knees  of 
your  heart,  while  all  these  Christian  friends  are  prayin' 
for  you,  an'  say  in  your  soul,  '  I  have  contemned  Thee, 
Most  Holy  an'  Most  Mighty  I  Unless  I  repent  Thou 
wilt  condemn  me.  Can  I  endure  it  ?' " 

He  drew  out  his  watch  and  fixed  his  eyes  on  it.  The 
stillness  was  dreadful.  Eye,  intonation  and  gesture 
showed  the  man  to  be  in  awful  earnest.  Those  who 
were  disposed  at  first  to  smile  at  his  homely  similes 
were  grave  enough  by  now.  Sixty  seconds  ticked 
audibly  by.  Miss  Harry  Macon  said  afterward  that 
they  sounded  to  her  like  "Going!  going!  gone!" 
Rowdy  Eoger  discharged  a  rattling  handful  of  empty 
shells  at  the  broadside  of  the  stove,  and  champed  noisily 
on  a  fresh  supply  of  nuts,  cocking  his  head  on  one  side  to 
leer  at  the  preacher,  like  an  impudent  yellow-hammer. 


144  JUDITH: 

Mr.  Dudley  put  up  the  watch  in  his  fob,  began  to 
speak  again  in  a  studiously  quiet  tone. 

"  I  think  it  was  Mr.  Whitefield  who,  at  the  close  of 
a  sermon,  called  out  to  the  recording  angel  he  knew 
was  thar,  'though  he  couldn't  see  him  :  '  Gabriel,  wait 
one  minute  longer,  and  take  to  Heaven  the  news  of 
the  repentance  an'  pardon  of  at  least  one  soul  I'  My 
hearers,  that  angel  wouldn't  'a'  stopped  the  nine-hun- 
dred-an '-ninety-ninth  part  of  a  second  at  the  biddin'  of 
all  the  "Whitefields  an'  Wesleys  an'  Knoxes  an'  Sum- 
merfields  that  ever  preached.  Sence  the  Apostles  fell 
asleep  thar  have  been  no  Joshuas  in  the  pulpit.  The 
minute  I  have  jus'  counted  is  gone  as  completely  as 
that  which  heard  the  click  o'  the  hasp  that  fastened 
down  Noah  into  the  ark.  It 's  one  of  the  drops  of  the 
ocean  of  eternity  past,  of  whose  number  the  Almighty, 
who  was  and  is,  and  is  to  be,  keeps  account. 

"I  looked  onct  at  a  drop  o'  water  in  a  microscope, 
an'  it  was  alive!  full  o'  squirmin',  creepin',  feelin' 
things.  The  man  that  owned  the  instrument  said  ef  it 
had  been  a  stronger  glass  we  could  'a'  seen  thousands 
more,  every  one  with  life  an'  organs  of  its  own.  Thar 's 
no  stronger  lens  than  the  eye  of  the  Judge  an'  Maker 
o'  us  all.  He  saw  in  that  drop  o'  time  that  slipped 
down  while  we  were  silent,  all  that  passed  in  the  hearts 
o'  this  congregation.  The  prayers  an'  longin's  o'  Chris- 
tians over  the  dyin'  souls  about  them ;  the  sneers  an' 
callousness  of  them  that  are  past  feelin' ;  maybe — I  pray 
that  in  infinite  mercy  this  may  have  been  ! — the  out- 
stretched hand  of  some  drownin'  wretch,  as  he  cried, 
'  Lord,  save,  or  I  perish  T  " 

The  abrupt  change  of  voice  to  impassioned  supplica- 
tion, the  clasped  hands  uplifted,  as  were  the  streaming 
eyes,  wrought  powerfully  upon  the  aspect  of  the  crowd. 
Heads  went  down  as  bowed  by  a  mighty  wind  ;  forms 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          145 

shook  with  emotion  ;  there  was  a  sound  of  low  sobbing 
and  deep-drawn  breaths  throughout  the  house.  The 
man  in  yellow  stretched  arms  and  jaws  in  a  huge  yawn, 
and  addressed  himself  to  an  ostentatious  examination 
of  every  pocket  for  one  more  peanut,  drawing  forth,  at 
flourishing  length,  a  red  bandana  handkerchief,  jack- 
knife,  wallet  and  a  dozen  miscellaneous  articles,  de- 
positing them  one  by  one  in  the  hat  between  his  knees. 

"The  showman  told  us  another  curious  thing,"  pur- 
sued the  speaker.  "  His  was  a  solar  microscope,  an'  he 
said  thar  were  times  when  the  sun  was  very  hot  an'  the 
lenses  very  strong,  that  the  weakly  critturs  among  them 
in  the  drop  o' water — the  things  that  had  fewest  organs 
an'  senses — died  in  crossin'  the  focus.  The  glare  an' 
neat  were  more  'n  they  could  stand.  My  dear  friends, 
return  thanks  with  me  that  God  is  more  merciful  than 
man.  Ef  He  wasn't,  what  chance  would  there  be  of 
life  ?  what  hope  of  escape  from  blastin',  shrivelin'  up 
and  annihilation  under  the  buruin '-glass  o'  His  indig- 
nation for  a  yaller  imp  o'  the  Evil  One,  who,  on  the 
birthday  of  the  King  of  Glory,  comes  to  His  holy  temple 
to  insult  His  servants,  an'  to  chaw  goober-peas  /" 

The  slow  sweep  of  his  arm  consecrated  the  mean,  de- 
faced interior  into  a  house  of  prayer  ;  the  box  in  which 
he  stood  was  an  altar  from  which  he,  the  sword-bearer 
of  the  Spirit,  the  priest  of  the  Most  High,  convicted 
the  godless  reptile,  cowering  under  his  blazing  eyes,  of 
sacrilege.  Before  the  electric  shock  had  so  far  subsided 
as  to  allow  the  auditors  to  perceive  the  comical  side  of 
the  diatribe,  he  joined  his  hands  and  bent  his  head  : 

"  Let  us  pray  1" 

Nearly  all  present  fell  upon  their  knees.  I  entered 
that  hour  into  the  meaning  of  a  phrase  already  familiar 
to  my  ear — "  wrestling  in  prayer."  One  was  impressed 
irresistibly,  in  listening  to  him,  with  the  figure  of  a 


146  JUDITH: 

man  fastening  with  clutching  hands  upon  the  King's 
robe,  while  plea  and  petition  rushed  to  the  lips  almost 
too  fast  for  utterance.  As  he  implored  an  extension  of 
the  day  of  grace  for  the  hardened  offender  who  had 
played  so  conspicuous  a  part  in  the  foreground  of  the 
morning  scene,  furtive  steps  passed  down  the  aisle.  A 
moment  later  the  clattering  of  hoofs  was  heard  among 
the  grave-stones,  the  thud  and  splash  of  a  gallop  down 
the  muddy  road.  Rowdy  Roger  was  nowhere  to  be  seen 
when  we  arose  to  receive  the  benediction. 

The  dispersion  of  a  Virginia  country  congregation  in 
those  times  was  a  curious  spectacle  to  Northern  eyes. 
Horses  had  been  detached  from  carriages  and  gigs  and 
tied  to  fences  and  trees,  there  to  stand  at  ease  during 
divine  service.  Some  minutes  were  consumed  in  making 
them  ready  and  bringing  them  up  in  turn  to  the  en- 
trance of  the  church.  This  interval,  and  often  a  much 
longer  time,  were  passed  in  social  greetings  and  kindly 
converse  among  neighbors  and  friends.  No  sooner  was 
the  "Amen!"  of  dismission  pronounced  than  a  general 
hand-shaking  began,  the  occupants  of  the  pews  leaning 
forward  or  back  to  address  those  near  them,  without 
leaving  their  places.  Old  or  infirm  ladies  often  sat 
down  again  to  await  the  summons  to  their  chariots. 
Some  elderly  men  strolled  out  to  see  that  horses  were 
unhitched  and  brought  up.  Younger  cavaliers  were 
prone  to  linger  in  lively  chat  with  favorite  belles,  or 
pleasant  exchange  of  compliments  with  mothers  and 
chaperones.  The  outward  procession  was  leisurely  con- 
ducted, cronies  gossiping,  their  faces  under  one  an- 
other's bonnets ;  gay  youths,  carrying  their  hats  in 
hands  cast  carelessly  behind  them,  heads  bent  in  at- 
tention or  homage,  escorted  sweet-voiced,  frank-eyed 
girls  down  the  aisle  and  steps  and  handed  them  into 
their  carriages.  No  lady  was  suffered  to  step  in  or  out 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          147 

ut  the  door  unassisted.  There  were  always  those  on 
each  side  of  the  church  steps  ready  to  perform  this  gal- 
lant service  alike  for  acquaintance  and  stranger. 

Our  home-party  was  divided  into  two  bands.  Grand- 
ma, Aunt  Betsey,  my  mother  and  little  Bessie,  my 
sister,  were  bestowed  in  the  Trueheart  carriage.  In 
that  belonging  to  Summerfield  were  Aunt  Maria,  Miss 
Virginia,  myself;  and,  just  as  the  door  was  closing,  Miss 
Harry  Macon  tripped  up,  with  the  petition  that  she 
might  have  a  seat  with  us  as  far  as  the  cross-roads. 

"We  have  two  tabbies  in  our  carriage  to-day.  I  want 
to  escape  for  half  an  hour  from  spit  and  purr,"  she  said 
when  we  were  in  motion.  "  Don't  let  Sid  hear  me,  or 
he  '11  tomahawk — or  preach  to — me  when  we  get  home," 
with  a  mock-timid  glance  at  her  grave  brother,  riding  at 
Aunt  Maria's  window.  "  Aunt  Deborah  Macon  and 
Aunt  Peggy  Branch  arrived  unexpectedly  last  night.  I 
never  knew  such  unexpected  people  !  They  always  re- 
mind me  of  death  in  that  respect — if  in  no  other.  They 
hate  one  another  dearly,  and  met  just  at  our  outer  gate. 
Neither  would  turn  back  for  fear  of  pleasing  the  other." 

"I  saw  them  in  church,"  remarked  Aunt  Maria. 
"We  shall  be  happy  to  see  them  with  you  to-morrow. 
AVill  you  ask  them  to  excuse  the  informality  of  the  in- 
vitation ?" 

"  They  shall  die  rather  than  come  !"  returned  the 
beauty  tranquilly.  "  I  would  administer  ratsbane 
with  my  own  fair  hands.  I  have  been  counting  upon 
to-morrow's  fun  for  weeks  past,  and  the  lives  of  a  couple 
of  spinster  aunts  would  not  weigh  the  eighth  of  an  ounce 
in  the  balance  against  the  fulfillment  of  my  wishes.  Di 
can't  come,  poor  thing  !  She  has  one  of  her  sore  throats 
— the  seventeenth  since  we  got  home  last  September. 
That 's  all  the  White  Sulphur  is  good  for  !  Sid,  Eod 
and  I  will  be  with  you,  whether  or  no,  and  the  sweet 


148  JUDITH: 

maidens  will  eat  their  Christmas  dinner  with  Papa. 
Both  call  him  '  Brother,'  both  are  slightly  deaf  and  very 
sensitive  on  the  score  of  the  infirmity,  and  the  dear, 
miserable  man  icill  roar  first  at  one,  then  the  other,  and 
beg  pardon  when  they  start  back  and  say  in  the  same 
breath,  'My  dear  brother,  one  would  suppose  me  to  be 
hard  of  hearing  from  the  way  you  pitch  your  voice !' 
Aunt  Deborah  is  the  woman  who  has  never  been  seen 
with  uncovered  head  since  she  put  on  caps  at  forty.  She 
sleeps  in  my  room,  and  always  blows  out  the  candle  be- 
fore she  changes  her  day-cap  for  that  she  wears  at  night. 
Or,  when  I  will  sit  up  and  read,  keeping  one  eye  on  her, 
she  steps  out  into  the  passage,  and  comes  back  night- 
capped." 

Sidney  Macon  leaned  toward  us,  his  hand  on  the 
window-frame,  leaving  his  horse,  experienced  in  such 
attendance,  to  pick  his  way  over  the  ruddy  ruts  of  the 
road,  avoiding  as  best  he  could  collision  with  the 
wheels. 

"  What  is  she  saying  ?"  he  asked,  smiling  indulgently 
at  the  rattle-pate. 

"  Making  herself  most  entertaining,  as  usual,"  replied 
Miss  Virginia,  readily  and  prettily. 

The  Richmond  girl  was  as  popular  with  her  own  sex 
as  with  the  other — an  uncommon  circumstance  when 
one  is  an  acknowledged  belle.  Her  pouts  and  coquet- 
ries were  so  palpably  feigned,  she  was  so  watchful  of 
the  comfort  of  all,  elderly  and  young,  so  generous  in  the 
division  with  other  women  of  the  attentions  that  fell 
abundantly  to  her  lot,  so  quick  to  say  and  to  do  gracious 
things,  that  malice  and  envy  could  not  thrive  in  the 
balminess  of  her  presence.  She  overlooked  nobody  and 
iorgot  nothing  that  was  said  to  her.  Her  outward  life 
was  a  study  of  peace  on  earth,  good-will  to  men,  with  a 
liberal  inclusion  of  women.  She  basked  in  and  absorbed 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         149 

sunlight  as  her  natural  aliment ;  radiated  it  in  lambent 
gleams,  after  the  manner  of  some  affluent  tropical 
flowers. 

Miss  Harry  Macon  sat  opposite  on  the  back  seat,  con- 
fessedly the  handsomest  girl  in  our  county.  Eighteen 
years  old,  taller  by  half  a  head  than  Miss  Virginia  and 
by  an  inch  than  Aunt  Maria,  straight  as  a  palm,  with  a 
willowy  grace  of  figure  and  movement ;  great  gray 
eyes,  black  with  the  shadowing  of  curling  lashes ; 
spirited  and  almost  faultless  features ;  with  a  gay  au- 
dacity of  temper  and  tongue  that  mocked  at  rebuke  and 
restraint — she  was  the  motive-power  in  her  home,  the 
crowned  leader  of  her  little  clique.  She  had  been 
christened  " Harriet  Byron,"  in  admiring  recollection 
of  the  precise  pink  of  maidenly  affectation  who  writes 
out  her  own  praises,  virtues  and  conquest  in  the  ro- 
mance lauded  by  Captain  Macon  in  his  ill-fated  wooing. 
The  name  suited  her  as  well  as  a  Quaker  cap  would 
have  become  the  sparkling  face,  that  had  fun  in  every 
flash  and  roguishness  in  each  dimple.  The  alteration 
to  the  semi-masculine  sobriquet,  to  which  she  had  an- 
swered from  babyhood,  was  inevitable.  Her  sister, 
Diana  Vernon,  was,  by  a  like  contrariety  of  happening, 
a  shy  invalid,  who  seldom  appeared  abroad. 

Miss  Harry  sported  that  day  a  costume  more  conspicu- 
ous then  than  it  would  be  now — a  black  cloth  gown, 
fitting  as  closely  as  a  riding-habit,  high  in  the  neck,  and 
with  tight  sleeves,  while  every  other  woman  at  church 
who  made  any  pretense  of  following  the  fashion  wore 
huge  puffs  between  shoulders  and  elbows,  often  ex- 
panded by  frames  of  buckram  and  wire.  Her  wrists 
and  neck  were  trimmed  with  fur.  A  band  of  the  same 
bordered  her  black  hat,  from  the  crown  of  which 
drooped  a  long  scarlet  feather.  Her  straight  skirt,  fol- 
lowing the  outlines  of  her  lissome  figure,  fell  to  her  feet 


150  JUDITH: 

in  classic  folds.  Miss  Virginia's  dark-blue  silk  pelisse 
and  bonnet  and  Aunt  Maria's  dove-colored  raiment 
were,  in  cut  and  material,  more  in  accordance  with  the 
reigning  mode.  The  combination  of  red  and  black,  in 
high  favor  with  our  modern  fashionists,  was  regarded 
fifty  years  back  with  peculiar  disfavor.  Even  Mammy 
had  been  stirred  out  of  her  grave  reserve  by  the  sight 
of  Miss  Harry's  attire  when  she  first  exhibited  it  at 
Summerfield,  waylaying  her  in  the  hall  to  expostulate. 

"Miss  Harry,  my  dear  young  lady,  you  mustn't  be 
mad  with  me  !  I  been  know  you  ever  sence  you  was  a 
baby.  Honey,  what  you  wear  red  an'  black  for  ?  Don't 
you  know  it's  mournin'  for  the  devil,  an'  mighty  bad 
luck  ?" 

"  Mammy  !  am  I  so  near  of  kin  to  the  old  gentleman 
that  I  should  be  obliged  to  mourn  for  him  if  he  were  to 
be  scalded  to  death  in  one  of  his  own  dinner-pots  some 
day  ?"  said  the  incorrigible,  with  a  look  of  affected 
horror. 

No  other  woman  in  six  counties  could  have  carried 
off  this  costume  as  she  did,  or  indeed  looked  otherwise 
than  absurd  in  it. 

A  cortege  of  horsemen  overtook  and  accompanied 
our  carriage.  Sidney  Macon  kept  his  place  at  the  right 
hand,  pushed  hard  by  his  livelier  brother  Roderick,  who 
talked  persistently  across  him,  watching  for  a  chance  to 
slip  into  closer  proximity  to  the  wheels.  Mr.  Bradley 
rode  nearest  the  other  window.  Beyond  these  skir- 
mished three  or  four  others,  flinging  merry  and  gallant 
sayings  to  one  and  all  of  the  three  young  ladies.  Uncle 
Sterling,  disdaining,  as  he  put  it,  "  to  enter  for  a  scrub- 
race,"  had  ridden  forward  to  a  neighbor's  carriage,  and 
Wythe  to  join  some  collegians  at  home  for  the  holidays. 
Uncle  Archie  was  at  one  side  of  the  coach,  in  which 
were  his  mother,  aunt  and  sister ;  my  father  riding  on 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          151 

the  other.  They  were  right  behind  us,  and  I,  sitting 
with  ray  back  to  the  horses,  watched  him  with  loving, 
grieving  eyes.  Miss  Virginia  always  "  preferred  to  ride 
backward,"  especially  as  Aunt  Maria  was  apt  to  have 
a  headache  when  she  occupied  this  place.  Uncle  Archie 
had  a  full  view  of  the  face,  radiant  with  happy  smiles, 
brilliant  with  the  color  brought  to  the  cheeks  by  the 
frosty  kisses  of  the  wind.  I  was  provoked  with  him  for 
having  tarried  to  seat  the  elder  ladies,  instead  of  dele- 
gating the  duty  to  his  brother-in-law  and  riding  on  in 
season  to  secure  the  post  which  was  his  of  right.  He 
nodded  smilingly  in  catching  my  yearning  gaze,  but  I 
was  not  comforted.  Nor  was  I  deceived  by  his  brave 
show  of  interest  in  my  mother's  talk.  How  was  this 
possible  when  I  was  assured  that  the  plump,  perfectly- 
gloved  hand  laid  caressingly  on  my  lap  held  his  heart 
and  destiny  ? 

At  the  cross-roads  the  carriage  from  Hunter's  Kest 
was  waiting  for  us  at  the  side  of  the  highway.  The 
master,  in  his  red  coat,  had  alighted,  to  hold  the  door 
open  for  his  darling's  return.  His  fine  gray  head  was 
uncovered  every  half  minute  in  salutation  to  passers- 
by  ;  the  bridle  of  his  horse  hung  in  the  crook  of  his 
elbow.  Five  or  six  young  fellows  sprang  to  the  earth 
with  the  halting  of  the  Summerfield  equipage.  The 
door  flew  wide,  the  steps  were  let  down  with  a  flourish, 
emulous  hands  were  outstretched  to  assist  the  beauty's 
descent  and  guard  her  dress  from  the  muddy  wheels. 
In  state  that,  to  my  fancy,  might  wait  upon  a  princess 
of  the  blood,  she  was  attended  to  the  cushion  over 
against  that  occupied  by  the  brace  of  spinsters  in  black 
satin  and  curled  false  "fronts,"  who  looked  on  in  iced 
propriety,  agreed  for  once  in  their  virtuous  disapproval 
of  the  display  of  homage  to  "that  spoiled  child." 
Harry  waved  her  hand  smilingly  as  the  horses  started, 


152  JUDITH: 

Captain  Macon  bent  to  his  saddle-bow ;  young  heads 
were  bared  in  farewell  obeisances.  Roderick  and  Sid- 
ney tarried  for  a  word  of  adieu  and  promise  for  the 
morrow,  then  galloped  on  to  join  their  father,  and  we 
turned  off  into  the  road  leading  homeward. 

The  bustle  and  ceremony,  the  festal  tone,  tempered 
with  decorous  remembrance  of  time  and  place,  attendant 
upon  these  returnings  from  church,  were  to  me,  albeit 
all  my  life  used  to  them,  an  unceasing  and  delicious  ex- 
citement. It  seemed  such  a  grand  thing — a  life  worth 
living — to  be  youthful  and  fair — a  cup  that  never  staled, 
lucent  to  the  dregless  depths,  in  which  the  minutes 
were  glittering  beads,  breaking  before  the  rising  of 
others  as  bright  and  fresh. 

"At  last  1"  I  heaved  a  wordless  sigh  as  Uncle  Archie 
touched  his  horse  with  the  spur  and  appeared  at  Miss 
Virginia's  side. 

She  looked  up  in  her  sweet,  ingenuous  way  straight 
into  Ms  eyes. 

"  I  think,"  she  said,  "  that  I  never  saw  a  more  bril- 
liantly beautiful  girl  than  Harry  Macon.  If  I  were  a 
man,  I  should  fall  madly  in  love  with  her.  I  don't  see 
how  any  man  can  respect  himself  who  does  not.  I 
hope,"  glancing  severely  from  Mr.  Bradley  to  the  Bead 
brothers,  "  that  you  all  come  up  to  your  duty  in  this  re- 
gard ?" 

Aunt  Maria's  gentle  voice  answered  for  them : 

"My  dear  Virginia  !  what  a  disaster  you  are  propo- 
sing! All  three  in  love  at  once  and  with  the  same 
woman  1" 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.       153 


CHAPTER  X. 

A  WIDE  world  of  whirling  white  out  of  doors.  The 
Christmas  storm  which  had  set  in  at  noon,  and  raged 
unremittingly  until,  in  the  premature  twilight,  to  an 
observer  on  the  front  porch,  the  big  walnut  tree  was  but 
a  darkening  of  the  low-hanging  glooms  in  that  direction, 
except  when  the  wind  cleft  the  swaying  curtain  of  snow 
with  the  cimeter  of  a  hyperborean  Saladin,  and  a  black 
bough — like  an  arm  shot  up  suddenly  in  prayer  or  exe- 
cration— was  thrust  upon  the  view.  The  ground  was 
already  buried  inches  deep — the  porch-steps  were  an  in- 
ciiued  plane.  Barn-yard  noises — the  tinkle  of  cow-bells, 
the  answering  calls  of  dams  and  calves  and  the  more 
distant  bleating  of  folded  sheep— had  the  muffled  sound 
as  if  heard  through  a  woolly  medium,  which  is  famili- 
arly pleasant  to  those  who  have  noted  the  features  of  a 
steady  snowfall.  The  homestead  stood  alone  and  stead- 
fast, the  one  fixed  object  in  the  wavering  waste  that  was 
the  landscape.  A  great  drift  lay  athwart  the  front  door ; 
others  against  the  chimneys  and  in  the  angles  of  the  roof. 

Within,  the  great  parlor  was  full  to  the  remotest  cor- 
ner of  scarlet  shine  from  the  riotous  yule  fire,  under- 
pinned with  "fat"  lightwood  knots  and  roofed  with 
hickory  logs.  The  hexagons  of  glass  in  the  book-case 
doors  were  patens  of  bright  gold ;  the  perpendicular 
disk  of  the  light-stand  shone  like  a  polished  shield.  The 
festoons  of  running  cedar  and  the  holly-boughs  in  the 
vases  seemed  astir  with  dancing  shadows.  From  the 
ceiling  hung  a  bunch  of  mistletoe,  studded  with  waxen 
berries,  pulsing  visibly  in  the  current  of  warmed  air. 

A  company  of  about  twenty  young  people  was  wound 


154  JUDITH: 

and  knotted  in  a  semicircular  ring  at  a  respectful  dis- 
tance from  the  heart  of  the  glare.  This  had  been  a 
"dining-day  "  at  Summerfield.  Two  Archers,  an  Eg' 
gleston,  a  Page,  a  Craig,  two  Venables,  a  Carrington, 
three  Macons,  and  two  of  the  Burleigh  Reads,  with  the 
Summerfield  residents,  made  up  the  party.  They  would 
all  lodge  under  our  roof  that  night.  If  the  number  of 
bedrooms  in  the  homestead  had  been  less  by  half  than 
it  was,  none  of  them  would  have  been  suifered  to  de- 
part. Christmas  Day,  kept  this  year  on  Monday,  the 
26th  of  December,  was  the  beginning  of  a  series  of 
"junketings  "  that  would  overrun  the  holiday  week. 
On  the  morrow  the  throng  would  break  bounds  and 
snow-drifts  to  swarm  down  upon  Burleigh,  the  resi- 
dence of  my  great-uncle,  Lyle  Bead,  by  whom  the 
guests  would  be  entertained  for  a  day  and  a  night.  On 
Wednesday  they  were  expected  at  Hunter's  Rest ;  on 
Thursday  by  the  Sleepy  Creek  Venables ;  on  Friday  at 
Fonthill,  the  ancestral  seat  of  the  Archers.  These 
were  regular  engagements,  from  which  would  spring 
divers  impromptu  diversions  and  suggestions  for  pro- 
longation of  the  convivialties. 

There  was  no  dancing  in  Presbyterian  houses,  but  the 
day  had  gone  by  merrily.  The  first  carriage  drove  up  at 
half-past  eleven.  Dinner  was  served  at  two  o'clock  on 
two  tables  running  the  whole  length  of  the  dining-room. 
Oysters,  roast  turkeys,  wild  and  domestic ;  roast  pig, 
duck,  mutton  and  beef,  boiled  ham,  fried  chicken,  sweet 
and  Irish  potatoes,  hominy,  rice,  black-eyed  peas,  tur- 
nips, parsnips,  cold-slaw,  pickles  of  every  conceivable 
kind,  and  no  less  than  twenty  dishes  of  sweets,  includ- 
ing mince,  lemon,  apple  and  custard-pie,  damson  puffs, 
the  ever-luscious,  transparent  pudding,  plum  pudding, 
preserves,  cakes,  jellies  and  cream — somewhat  in  this 
order  went  the  feast.  Tiny  glasses  of  home-made 


A  CHRONICLE  Off  OLD  VIRGINIA.          155 

liqueur  prefaced  it  in  the  parlor,  and  tumblers  of  Aunt 
Betsey's  famous  egg-nogg  went  around  with  the  dessert. 
Just  before  bed-time  she  would  compound  a  mighty 
bowl  of  the  same  as  a  general  night-cap.  Into  this 
would  go : 

3  pints  of  peach  brandy, 
("Hunter's  Rest  "brand,  smooth  as  oil,  clear  as  amber,  and 

fifteen  years  old)  ; 
3  gallons  of  fresh  milk, 

5  dozen  eggs — yolks  and  whites  beaten  separately  ; 
\%  Ibs.  best  loaf  sugar, 
1  nutmeg,  grated. 

Captain  Macon,  although  compelled  to  dine  at  home 
with  his  spinster  visitors,  had  ridden  over  with  his  sons 
and  daughter  purposely  to  "  quaff  " — standing,  and  his 
hand  upon  his  heart — "  a  beaker  of  the  incomparable 
beverage  brewed 

'  By  nae  hands  as  ye  may  guess 
Save  those  of  fairlie  fair.'  " 

It  was  clear  that  the  true-hearted  old  officer  bore  his 
former  flame  no  ungenerous  grudge  for  her  unexplained 
silence  almost  thirty  years  ago. 

Everybody,  including  my  saintly  grandmother,  tasted 
egg-nogg  at  Christmas.  Nobody  had  taken  enough  of 
any  kind  of  stimulant  to  make  him  either  stupid  or 
over-merry  at  this  the  hour  when  fun  and  jollity  reached 
the  climax.  We  had  music  at  intervals  throughout  the 
afternoon.  Aunt  Maria's  harmonica  was  a  mahogany 
box  about  four  feet  long  and  as  many  in  width,  and 
eighteen  inches  deep.  A  hinged  cover,  when  lifted,  re- 
vealed rows  of  hemispherical  glasses  mounted  on  foot- 
less stems,  set  in  sockets.  The  vessels  were  arranged 
in  octaves,  the  larger  representing  the  base,  the  smaller 
the  treble  keys  of  a  harpsichord.  When  used,  a  super- 
numerary goblet  was  filled  with  water,  and  the  finger- 
tips dipped  in  this  were  passed  deftly  around  the  rims 


156  JUDITH: 

of  those  bearing  the  names  of  the  desired  notes  of  music. 
These  "were  the  "musical  glasses"  popular  at  the  pe- 
riod, sets  of  which  may  still  be  found  once  in  a  great 
while  in  old  mansions.  The  music  was  a  sweet,  vibrant 
legato  strain,  best  adapted  for  sacred  and  plaintive  airs. 
Aunt  Maria  played  well  and  with  ease  that  tempted  one 
to  imagine  that  the  dulcet  ring  following  the  motion  of 
her  hands  flowed  spontaneously  from  the  slender  brown 
fingers.  Mr.  Bradley  accompanied  her  on  the  flute  in 
selections  from  Moore's  "National  Airs,"  a  book  he 
had  brought  from  Richmond  in  September. 

Miss  Virginia  Dabney  was  a  skillful  pianist,  but  in 
the  absence  of  that  instrument  was  persuaded  to  sing 
to  a  flute  second  a  ballad  named  by  Mr.  Bradley.  Hand- 
organs  have  taken  all  the  music  out  of  the  somewhat 
shallow  melody,  and  parodists  achieved  their  usual  re- 
ditctio  ad  absurdum  for  the  rhymes  which  were  never 
poetry ;  but,  given  in  her  tender  trill  and  pure  articula- 
tion, tactful  expression  supplying  soul  to  the  words,  it 
was  listened  to  with  feeling,  applauded  enthusiastically. 

I  transcribe  the  song,  that  the  reader  may  compare 
the  lyrical  taste  of  our  grandparents  with  that  which 
considers  the  popular  English  ballad  as  very  weak 
lemonade,  and  craves  claret-cup  ,and  champagne  in 
classic  symphony  and  operatic  bravura.  Some  know- 
ledge of  the  sentiment  conveyed  by  the  words  is  like- 
wise necessary  to  a  right  comprehension  of  the  ensuing 
conversation : 

'  A  place  in  thy  memory,  dearest, 

Is  all  that  I  claim, 
To  pause  and  look  back  when  thou  nearest 

The  sound  of  my  name. 
Another  may  woo  thee  nearer, 

Another  may  win  and  may  wear ; 
I  care  not  if  he  be  dearer 

So  I  'm  remembered  there. 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         157 

"  Remember  me  not  as  a  lover, 

Whose  hopes  have  been  crossed, 
Whose  bosom  can  never  recover 

The  joy  it  has  lost. 
As  a  young  bride  remembers  the  mother 

She  loves,  yet  ne'er  more  may  see ; 
As  a  sister  remembers  a  brother, 

So,  dearest,  remember  me  ! 

"  Remember  me,  then — and  remember 

My  calm  life,  love  ; 
Though  drear  as  the  skies  of  November 

Its  light  may  prove, 
That  life  will,  though  lonely,  be  sweet 

If  its  brightest  enjoyment  should  be 
A  smile  and  a  kind  word  when  we  meet, 

And  a  place  in  thy  memory." 

It  was  encored  by  acclamation.  The  songstress  was 
very  lovely  in  her  compliance  with  the  nattering  re- 
quest. Crouched  on  my  sheepskin  cushion  between  the 
sweep  of  her  pale-blue  silk  skirt  and  the  wall,  I  watched 
her  in  rapt  content.  Mr.  Bradley  stood  behind  her  with 
his  flute  at  lip.  For  once  Uncle  Archie  had  established 
himself  in  the  chair  next  to  hers.  By  leaning  back  and 
turning  slightly  to  the  left  he  could  look  down  upon  her 
without  seeming  intentness  of  observation.  That  she 
was  conscious  of  his  gaze  I  was  certain  when  I  marked 
the  heightened  damask  stealing  upward  to  her  forehead 
as  she  sang  again,  and  yet  more  sweetly  than  at  first, 
the  soft  contralto  of  the  flute  sustaining  and  enriching 
the  poor  little  air,  with  its  one  imperfectly-hinted  musi- 
cal thought. 

"  Too  disinterested  by  half!" 

The  speaker  was  Roderick  Macon.  He  had  borrowed 
a  banjo  from  "  the  quarters,"  and  began  to  screw  up  the 
strings  while  he  talked,  standing  on  the  outskirt  of  the 
semicircle,  very  tall,  black  and  restless  as  to  wall- 
shadow. 

"  '  If  she  be  not  fair  for  me, 
What  care  ^how  fair  she  be  ?' 


158  JUDITH: 

The  fellow  whose  highest  hope  of  terrestrial  happiness 
is  that  the  woman  who  has  discarded  him  may  not  en- 
tirely forget  the  insignificant  fact  of  his  existence, 
ought  to  be  toned  up  on  milk  punch,  wine  whey  and 
chalybeate  bitters.  His  blood  is  thin,  his  brain  inert, 
his  gastric  juices  vitiated." 

There  was  a  laugh,  for  handsome  Roderick  was  a 
medical  student. 

"  Bod  has  just  reached  Dietetics.  You  must  excuse 
the  bent  of  his  ideas,"  interpolated  his  sister,  in  affected 
mortification.  "  Now,  I  should  recommend  a  Spanish 
fly  blister  for  that  unambitious  youth,  to  be  applied  at 
the  base  of  the  brain.  Just  to  wake  him  up,  you  know. 
Love  couldn't  do  it,  it  seems." 

"It  is  well  that  I  am  not  responsible  for  the  senti- 
ment of  my  song,"  said  Miss  Virginia,  smiling.  "  Yet 
— I  suppose  you  will  be  ashamed  of  me  as  a  fellow- 
woman,  Harry,  and  it  is  impolitic  to  confess  as  much 
in  the  hearing  of  the  gentlemen  " — blushing  bewitch- 
ingly. — "  but  I  really  do  think  that  if  I  were  a  man  I 
could  sympathize  with  the  feelings  of  that  author. 
Being  a  woman,  I  could  honor  him  for  it." 

"  He  may  certainly  claim  the  blessing  promised  to 
the  poor  in  spirit,"  observed  Branch  Archer.  "It  is 
lucky  he  is  content  to  wait  for  it,  since  his  chances  of 
temporal  reward  are  worse  than  uncertain." 

There  was  a  hum  of  eager  assent  and  demur  from 
the  masculine  group  that,  by  a  natural  law  of  accre- 
tion, always  encompassed  Harry  Macon. 

"  I  believe  there  are  men,  neither  mean-spirited  nor 
sickly,  who  could  feel  what  the  song  expresses."  Uncle 
Archie's  strong  tones  took  up  the  discussion.  "  The 
difficulty  is  that  love  is  seldom  so  single-hearted  as  that. 
The  first  object  is  apt  to  be  a  man's  own  happiness,  and 
the  second  that  of  the  woman  he  loves.  As  I  look  at  the 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         159 

case  of  this  discarded  suitor,  if  he  had  lo-ved  her  less, 
he  would  not  have  had  the  courage  to  give  her  up.  If 
he  had  heen  less  sensible,  he  would  have  persecuted  her 
until  she  was  disgusted,  instead  of  cherishing  his 
memory  as  that  of  the  friend  who  would  rather  be  her 
brother  than  the  husband  of  any  other  woman.  There 
is  a  great  deal  that  passes  for  love  which  is  clear  selfish- 
ness, and  for  the  pain  of  disappointed  affection  which 
is  nothing  but  mortified  vanity." 

The  murmur  of  criticism  and  opinion  broke  out 
anew.  Under  cover  of  it  Miss  Virginia  spoke  softly 
to  the  companion  nearest  her. 

"  Thank  you  !  I  thought  you  would  understand  I" 
A  delicately  inflected  emphasis  on  the  pronoun  in  the 
second  person  made  the  acknowledgment  the  more 
valuable  to  him  who  bent  to  catch  it.  His  eye  beamed, 
the  vein  in  his  forehead  throbbed.  Before  he  could 
speak,  Koderick  Macon  swung  the  banjo  aloft  in  a 
strummed  prelude;  his  full  baritone  interrupted  the 
strife  of  tongues : 

"  Says  the  blackbird  to  the  crow, 
'  What  makes  white  folks  hate  us  so  ? 
Ever  since  the  first  Old  Adam  was  born 
It 's  been  our  trade  to  pull  up  corn, 

Caw  I  caw  !  caw  1 ' 

"  '  Oh  !'  says  the  nightingale,  sitting  in  the  grass, 
'  Once  I  loved  a  handsome  lass  ; 
But,  though  my  voice  would  charm  a  king, 
She  wouldn't  so  much  as  let  me  sing.'  " 

(An  excellent  imitation  of  the  unwriteable  "jug-jug- 
jug  !"  of  the  nightingale.) 

"  '  Ah  !'  says  the  woodpecker,  drumming  on  a  tree, 
'  Once  I  wooed  a  fair  ladye ; 
She  grew  fickle,  and  from  me  fled ; 
Ever  since  then  my  head 's  been  red.' " 
"  Tap-tap-tap  !  Tap-tap-tap  !"  (with  the  finger  on  the 
wood  of  the  banjo). 


160  JUDITH: 

11 '  To-whoo  !'  cries  the  owl  with  head  so  white, 

All  alone  on  a  dark,  rainy  night, 
'  Oft  I  hear  the  young  men  say, 
"  Court  by  night  and  sleep  by  day  !" 

To-whit!  To-whoo!'" 

His  sister  caught  the  instrument  in  the  concluding 
flourish,  picked  at  the  strings  with  a  touch  as  practiced 
as  his,  in  a  rollicking  melody.  Somebody  said  once  that 
"the  banjo  laughed  whenever  she  touched  it." 

"  If  you  want  practical,  hard  common  sense,  here  it 
is,"  she  said,  without  breaking  the  tune : 

"  Whistle,  daughter  !  whistle  !  come,  now,  be  very  good  !" 
"  I  cannot  whistle,  mother.    You  know  I  never  could." 

"  Whistle,  daughter  !  whistle  !  and  have  these  lovely  flowers  !" 
"I  cannot  whistle,  mother,  though  I  should  try  for  hours." 

"  Whistle,  daughter  !  whistle !  behold  a  golden  ring  !" 
"  I  cannot  whistle,  mother !    I  ne'er  did  such  a  thing  V 

"  Whistle,  daughter  !  whistle  !  and  be  in  satin  dressed  !" 
"  I  cannot  whistle,  mother,  or  I  would  do  my  best." 

"  Whistle,  daughter  !  whistle  !  and  you  shall  have  a  man  I" 

"  Whew-ew-ew!   whew-ew-ew!   whew-ew-ew!    I 'II  do  it  if  I  can !" 

Unmoved  by  the  clapping  and  laughter  succeeding 
the  last  line,  she  whistled  the  air  through  clearly  and 
correctly,  to  a  dashing  banjo  accompaniment. 

"That  shows  what  motive  will  accomplish  I"  she  ut- 
tered, passing  the  instrument  backward  over  her  head 
to  her  brother. 

She  was  a  dazzling  picture — sitting  there  on  a  low 
stool  in  the  very  focus  of  warm  color,  and  thrown  into 
striking  relief  by  the  line  of  dark-coated  men  behind 
her.  Her  gown  of  canton  crape  was  of  a  rich  cream  in 
tint,  and  left  to  view  the  perfectly-moulded  shoulders 
and  arms.  A  scarlet  scarf  was  disposed  in  artistic  neg- 
ligence over  one  shoulder  and  caught  in  a  loose  knot 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         161 

under  the  other.  Beneath  her  skirt  peeped  out  the  toe 
of  a  high-heeled  slipper  and  a  red  rosette.  Her  luxu- 
riant hair  was  combed  over  a  cushion  a  la  Pompadour, 
and  wound  into  close  bands  on  the  nape  of  the  neck. 
Half  the  men  in  the  room  would  have  been  ready  at  that 
instant  to  swear  that  they  adored  her.  She  knew  this, 
and  was  used  to  it.  She  had  expanded  into  glorious 
bloom  in  an  atmosphere  of  adulation  that  would  have 
been  death  to  generous  impulse  in  a  less  fine  nature.  If 
she  offended  prudes  by  her  avowed  fondness  for  flirta- 
tiont  and  the  liking  for  escapades  that  sometimes  grazed 
the  proprieties,  she  won  comrades  to  loyalty  and  lenient 
elders  to  indulgence  of  her  most  questionable  freaks. 
Even  her  brother  Sidney  admitted  that  "Harry  was 
capable  of  managing  her  own  affairs."  The  boldest 
admirer  would  not  have  dared  to  cross  the  line  she  drew 
sharply  between  freedom  and  license.  Uncle  Archie  cast 
a  look  of  affectionate  admiration  at  her  now,  laughed 
with  the  rest  at  the  latest  ebullition  of  unconquerable 
levity.  He  had  liked  and  petted  her  ever  since,  as  a 
baby-despot,  she  would  ride  on  no  shoulder  but  his 
when  her  mother  brought  her  for  the  day  or  afternoon 
to  Summerfield. 

The  stiff-backed,  claw-footed  settees  had  been  walked 
away  from  the  wall  for  the  convenience  of  those  who 
would  surround  the  fire.  Perched  on  the  arm  of  one  of 
these,  one  foot  touching  the  floor,  Roderick  Macon  sang 
and  strummed  comic  and  sentimental  songs  upon  call, 
until  Harry  captured  the  banjo,  declaring  that  she  was 
tired  to  death  of  his  croaking. 

"  So  is  everybody  else,  but  nobody  except  your  faithful 
sister  is  enough  your  friend  to  tell  you  so.  Mr.  Craig 
cracked  his  jaws  on  a  particularly  tough  yawn  just  now. 
Don't  deny  it,  Mr.  Craig !  I  am  so  used  to  the  sound 
that  I  recognize  the  gulp  of  a  swallowed  yawn  on  the 


163  JUDITH: 

instant.  I  have  a  delightful  bit  of  news  for  you  all, 
friends.  Listen  !"  smiling  around  the  ring  that  looked 
as  well  as  listened.  "It  is  just  the  day  and  the  hour 
and  the  weather  for — GHOST  STORIES  1  We  will  have 
nothing  else  until  supper-time,  and  never  a  lamp  or 
candle  in  the  room.  It  used  to  he  the  custom  at  family 
Christmas  parties  for  people  to  get  around  the  fire  in 
the  evening,  each  with  a  vacant  chair  beside  him  or  her, 
and  talk  of  spirits  until  they  appeared — and  sat  down 
with  them  !"  This  in  a  sepulchral  tone,  her  eyes  dilated 
upon  vacancy. 

A  stifled  shriek  from  a  nervous  young  woman  and  a 
universal  shudder. 

"  That  was  carrying  a  pleasant  custom  rather  too  far 
for  good  taste,"  Harry  subjoined,  considerate  of  the 
whims  of  weaker  natures.  "But  it  is  only  right  and 
fit — a  duty  we  owe  to  Christmas,  ourselves  and  the 
company  of  shades — to  spend  the  twilight  of  this  day 
in  telling  true  stories  of  what  is  vulgarly  termed  '  the 
supernatural' — when  it  is  truly  more  natural  than 
nature  herself !  I  believe  firmly  in  ghosts.  I  am  neither 
ashamed  nor  afraid  to  confess  it.  So  does  every  minister 
I  ever  forced  to  speak  frankly  of  the  matter,  and  I  have 
tried  dozens.  '  It  is  not  a  subject  to  be  treated  lightly,' 
they  say.  '  Hem — em  !  Such  beliefs  are  prone  to  de- 
generate into  superstition  if  the  ignorant  are  allowed 
to — ah — hem ! — embrace  them.' " 

"Harry  !"  remonstrated  Sidney,  yet  unable  to  seem 
quite  grave.  "You  forget  yourself!" 

Her  imitation  of  Mr.  Burgess  was  perfect. 

"  The  last  person  I  shall  forget  while  reason  reigns, 
my  dear  brother  !  But  to  leave  ghostly  fathers  and  go 
back  to  our  more  interesting  ghosts.  My  father  believes 
in  them,  fully  and  solemnly.  I  think  nobody  here  will 
doubt  his  sense  and  courage !"  drawing  herself  up 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         163 

proudly.  "  I  wrung  the  confession  from  him  one  night 
last  winter,  when  he  and  I  had  the  house  to  ourselves, 
and  the  maddest,  gloriousest  storm  was  howling  out- 
side. He  has  seen — THINGS — himself.  But  not  so 
many  as — here  is  a  part  of  my  surprise  for  you — as 
Mrs.  Waddell !  Aunt  Betsey  is  a  born  ghost-seer  I" 

I  detected  a  swift  exchange  of  glances  between  Aunt 
Maria  and  Uncle  Archie.  Then  the  latter  spoke  lightly  : 

"  Who  is  to  be  responsible  for  the  mischief  these  reve- 
lations may  do,  Miss  Harry  ?  Will  you  sit  up  to-night 
with  sal-volatile  and  burnt  feathers,  to  wait  upon  all  the 
young  ladies  you  frighten  out  of  their  wits  ?" 

"  The  truth  is  only — hem-em ! — perilous  to  the  feeble- 
minded, my  young  friend.  To  the — ah  ! — enlightened 
and  rational,  accustomed  to — ah,  hem  ! — weigh  evi- 
dence, may  be  safely  intrusted  the  keeping  of — hem- 
em-hem  ! — mysteries,  the  key  to  which  we  do  not  at  the 
present  possess,  Mr.  Read  !" 

"  Harry  !  Harry !"  from  Sidney,  now  really  uneasy. 

She  went  on  audaciously. 

"  We  will  try  this  intelligent  company  by  a  Scriptural 
test.  '  Whosoever  is  fearful  and  afraid  let  him  depart 
and  return  early' — that  is  now,  to  the  Mount  Gilead  of 
the  dining-room,  where  the  staid  and  elderly  are  enjoy- 
ing unlimited  pipes  and  housekeeping  gossip.  We  who 
are  bold  and  rational  enough  to  hear  the  truth  will  stay 
here,  send  an  embassage  to  Mrs.  Waddell,  and  when 
she  comes,  coax  out  of  her  all  she  knows.  While  I 
count  ten  the  flight  may  begin." 

Of  course,  nobody  moved.  Miss  Virginia  cast  a  side- 
long look  at  me.  I  squeezed  her  hand  imploringly. 

"  Please,  please  let  me  stay,"  I  whispered. 

For  answer  she  made  a  gesture  that  bade  me  crouch 
more  closely  to  her  side  for  better  concealment.  Snug- 
gled up  under  her  wing,  I  possessed  myself  of  one  of 


164  JUDITH: 

her  arms,  kissed  it,  and  laid  my  cheek  against  the  satia- 
soft  skin  in  dumb  ecstacy. 

Mr.  Bradley  was  deputed  to  entreat  Aunt  Betsey's 
presence,  her  partiality  for  the  handsome  tutor  being  no 
secret.  In  his  absence  Miss  Harry  continued  her  dis- 
course, her  chin  in  her  palm,  elbow  on  knee,  her  great 
eyes  like  lamps  with  reflected  fire-shine. 

"  Yes  !  I  believe  in  apparitions  and  wraiths  and  guar- 
dian angels  and  omens  and  presentiments — and  espe- 
cially in  dreams.  Many  of  my  dreams  come  true.  The 
reason  most  people  dream  to  no  effect  is  that  they  pay 
no  attention  to  the  visions  of  the  night.  The  spirits 
that  whisper  them  to  us  are  repelled  by  their  indiffer- 
ence. I  write  mine  down  with  the  date,  always.  I  had 
an  awful  one  last  night !" 

She  gave  a  shiver  that  seemed  real.  An  instant 
demand  for  the  narration  of  the  vision  arose  from  all 
sides. 

"It  will  not  amuse  you,  good  people  !  I  told  it  at 
the  breakfast-table.  The  maiden  aunts  said  it  was  a 
warning,  and  advised  me  to  '  stay  at  home  and  lay  it  to 
heart,'  and  poor  Di  nearly  fainted.  Papa  says  it  grew 
out  of  the  sermon  yesterday.  He  scolded  me  for  telling 
it  in  the  hearing  of  the  servants.  They  have  such  in- 
flammable imaginations  !  I  thought  I  was  standing  on 
a  hill-top  at  the  dead  of  night —  But  perhaps  some  of 
you  have  combustible  imaginations  ?"  checking  herself 
abruptly. 

There  was  a  clamorous  asseveration  to  the  contrary. 
Miss  Virginia  doubtless  had  no  fears  respecting  the  ef- 
fect of  dreams  or  ghost  stories  upon  a  child  brought  up 
so  sensibly  as  I  had  been,  and  whose  association  was 
almost  entirely  with  her  elders.  I  should  have  known, 
too,  that  Harry  Macon  was  such  a  madcap  that  people 
never  attached  much  importance  to  her  vagaries.  But 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          165 

I  shall  carry  the  memory  of  vision  and  ghostly  tale 
until  reason  and  recollection  give  way  together. 

Harry  took  up  the  thread  of  the  relation,  gazing  into 
the  fire,  and,  as  she  proceeded,  apparently  oblivious  of 
present  scene  and  auditors,  her  tones  sinking  into  a 
musical  monotone,  as  in  dreamy  soliloquy. 

"  I  was  standing  on  a  hill-top  at  the  dead  of  night. 
The  sky  was  full  of  stars,  and  the  Northern  lights  were 
shooting  up  from  the  horizon.  I  was  alone,  but  not 
lonely  or  timid.  Presently  I  made  out  that  the  hill  was 
that  on  which  the  Bienvenu  house  used  to  stand.  I 
could  see  the  roof  of  Old  Singinsville,  and  the  creek 
winding  through  the  low-grounds  and  the  river  on  my 
right  hand,  both  shining  like  glass  as  the  Northern 
lights  streamed  higher  and  higher.  Then  other  lights 
began  to  gleam  in  the  south,  east  and  west,  long  spears 
and  lances  of  white  flame  mounting  up,  up,  up,  until 
they  covered  the  heavens  and  met  at  the  zenith.  There 
they  formed  a  big,  luminous  cross,  shedding  rays  in 
every  direction — a  blazing  cross,  raining  white  light 
down  the  sides  of  the  firmament  clear  to  the  earth. 
Everything  was  as  bright  as  day — and  brighter.  I  could 
count  the  stones  in  the  graveyard  and  the  blades  of 
corn  in  the  low-grounds.  Still  everything  was  as  still 
as  death,  and  I  was  all  alone,  and  did  not  feel  afraid.  I 
wished  for  Papa,  and  that  Di  were  not  so  much  afraid 
of  the  night  air,  and  smiled  to  think  how  Kod  and  Sid 
would  explain  it  all  upon  natural  principles  when  I 
should  tell  them  about  it  to-morrow. 

"Suddenly  a  crimson  glow  quivered  up  from  the 
north  and  spread  fast,  streaming  upward  and  around 
until  the  heavens  were  as  red  as  blood,  flickering  and 
throbbing  just  as  the  bed  of  coals  there  does.  As  the 
glow  reached  the  cross,  that  began  to  change  shape, 
until,  before  I  could  feel  surprised,  an  immense  bell 


166  JUDITH: 

hung  where  the  white  cross  had  .  "sen — a  crimson  bell, 
and  in  it  a  mighty  clapper,  like  a  b  .rning  coal.  There 
were  fiery  letters  on  the  outside  :?  the  bell  running 
around  the  edge.  They  made  a  single  -rord — '  DOOM  I'  " 

"  Harry  Macon  !"  Sally  Page  cried  out,  a  sick  tremor 
shaking  the  roses  from  her  cheeks,  "  I  think  it  is  wicked 
to  dream  such  things,  and  as  sinful  to  repeat  them  1" 

"  I  advised  you  to  go  to  Mount  Gi~  ;ad,"  retorted  the 
narrator.  "  I  told  you  all  that  in  -.ammable  imagina- 
tions weren't  safe  when  there  was  ire  around.  There 
is  worse  coming.  I  '11  wait  until ;  /u  have  gone  into  the 
other  room." 

It  was  impossible  not  to  laugh  when  Sally  protested 
that  she  "would  not  budge  a  step.  She  was  as  brave 
as  other  people.  But  she  was  thankful  she  never  had 
such  horrid  dreams.  She  knew  she  should  die  of  fright 
before  she  woke  up." 

"Very  likely,"  rejoined  Harry.  "I  am  not  easily 
frightened,  even  in  my  sleep.  I  stood  staring  up  at  the 
monstrous  bell,  wishing  more  than  ever  that  Papa  and 
the  boys  were  there  to  see  it,  and  wondering  what  the 
inscription  meant.  Still  there  was  no  one  on  the  hill 
but  me,  and  I  was  not  at  all  afraid. 

" '  DOOM  I '  said  I  aloud.     '  To  whom,  I  wonder  !' 

"At  that  second  the  clapper  vibrated  and  the  bell 
began  to  toll !  The  boom  shook  heaven  and  earth.  It 
rings  in  my  ears  now.  Instantly  the  hill-top  and  sides 
and  the  low-grounds  were  crowded  with  people,  and, 
looking  around,  I  saw  other  hills,  miles  away,  packed 
with  faces,  all  gazing  up  at  the  great  crimson  bell,  and 
trembling  at  the  deafening  strokes.  In  the  graveyard 
by  the  church  the  stones  were  heaving  and  the  ground 
opening,  and  forms  were  rising  in  white  shrouds  to  join 
the  multitude.  Still  no  one  uttered  a  sound.  There 
was  nothing  to  be  heard  but  that  slow  '  toll  I  toll  I  toll  I' 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         167 

It  was  strange,  but  I  was  not  terrified,  and  saw  nobody 
I  knew. 

"  In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  a  man  started  up  above 
the  heads  of  the  people.  I  saw  it  was  Mr.  Dudley.  His 
shout  rang  out  like  a  trumpet — was  heard  above  the 
bell: 

"  ' It  is  the  great  and  terrible  day  of  the  Lord!  Cry 
unto  Zion  that  her  warfare  is  accomplished  !  Come  out  of 
Babylon,  my  people,  until  these  calamities  be  overpast ! ' 

"  By  the  time  the  words  were  spoken  the  bell  and  the 
glow  and  the  stars  went  out,  all  at  once,  and  I  was 
hurrying  along  over  the  deep  sand  of  a  desert  with  Papa 
and  Di,  trying  to  make  our  way  to  the  sea.  We  were 
escaping  from  the  persecution  of  Christians  set  on  foot 
by  the  Man  of  Sin  spoken  of  in  the  Bible.  Wherever 
we  turned  we  saw  stakes  and  fires  and  martyrs  burning. 
The  sea-shore  was  lined  with  them — the  hills  were 
lighted  by  them.  We  could  smell  the  pitch  in  which 
the  fagots  were  dipped.  We  walked  and  walked,  our 
feet  sinking  in  hot  sand.  Di  was  tired  out,  and  Papa 
picked  her  up  and  carried  her.  Poor  Papa  1  red  coat 
and  all !  And  I  carried  his  cane.  The  top  was  made 
in  the  shape  of  a  cross,  and  he  charged  me  not  to  lose 
it.  Once  I  hid  it  behind  a  sand-heap,  but  he  sent  me 
back  for  it,  and  made  me  hold  it  up  high  as  we  walked, 
that  we  might  'add  our  testimony  to  the  truth  of 
Christianity. ' 

"'We  will  not  make  our  escape  from  torture  and 
death  under  false  pretenses  !'  he  said. 

"Wasn't  that  just  like  the  dear,  stanch  old  Chris- 
tian soldier  ?" 

She  laughed  softly  and  was  silent,  still  gazing  into  the 
intense  depths  of  the  fire.  The  blaze  rushed  up  the 
chimney-throat  with  the  blast  of  forge-flames.  The 
white  whirl  outside  of  the  windows  was  ashy-gray ;  the 


168  JUDITH: 

wind  howled  and  sobbed,  with  now  and  then  a  shriller 
cry  as  of  sudden  pain  or  remembered  anguish.  For  a 
whole  minute  nothing  was  said.  Then  Sally  Page 
moved  impatiently. 

"Well?    What  then?    Goon!" 

Harry  did  not  withdraw  her  eyes  from  the  scarlet 
coals. 

"  That  is  all  1"  she  answered  abstractedly.  "  There  is 
nothing  more." 

"  Really  and  truly  ?" 

"  Really  and  truly  !  Did  you  ever  hear  of  a  wound- 
up, rounded-off  and  finished  dream  ?  They  always  end 
in  the  middle  and  unsatisfactorily.  Like  some  lives  !" 

As  the  door  opened  she  sprang  up,  all  mischief  and 
animation,  and  ran  to  seize  and  secure  the  seeress. 

"We  thought  you  were  never  coming  !"  she  pouted 
at  Mr.  Bradley. 

"  I  had  to  use  craft  to  get  her  at  all,"  was  his  defense. 
"  She  was  begirt  with  admirers  three  deep." 

There  was  a  flush  on  Aunt  Betsey's  face  that  on  a 
less  benignant  visage  might  have  been  read  as  gratified 
vanity,  a  gleam  like  triumph  in  her  eyes.  At  dinner 
she  had  been  calm,  but  attent  upon  the  business  of  the 
hour,  fine  breeding  and  the  wisdom  of  experience  com- 
bining to  suppress  outward  evidence  of  solicitude  as  to 
the  successful  movement  of  the  repast.  Supper  was  a 
bagatelle  that  rested  like  a  feather  on  the  lake  of  hos- 
pitable design.  For  the  rest  of  the  day  she  had  but  to 
enjoy  and  be  enjoyed. 

Harry  led  her  in  stately  progress  to  the  biggest  arm- 
chair, set  a  stool  beneath  the  trim  feet  encased  in  pru- 
nella slippers,  threw  both  arms  about  her  neck  and 
kissed  her. 

"Now  I"  subsiding  into  an  enchanting  mass  of 
creamy  crape,  scarlet  scarf  and  winsome  smiles  upon 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         169 

a  foot-cushion  before  her — "you  are  going  to  be  an 
angel  and  tell  us  all — taking  as  long  a  time  as  you  can, 
because  it  is  Christmas,  and  nobody  else  ever  did,  ever 
does  or  ever  can  tell  such  Christmas  tales  as  you — all 
about  the  Trueheart  Ghost — the  one  you  and  Papa 
saw!" 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  Aunt  Betsey  demurred,  hesi- 
tated, wavered,  in  just  accordance  with  conventionalism 
and  expectation.  Almost  as  superfluous  to  state  that 
the  several  stages  of  reluctance  were  in  time  overcome 
by  argument  and  coaxing.  It  may  not  be  amiss  to 
mention  that  she  had,  from  the  outset,  the  secret  inten- 
tion to  yield  in  the  end.  Story -telling  was  her  passion, 
and  she  was  (modestly)  conscious  of  her  aptitude  in  the 
art.  On  an  ordinary  occasion  she  would  have  suc- 
cumbed out  of  hand  at  Harry  Macon's  hug  and  kiss. 
The  Trueheart  Ghost  was  a  different  affair.  She  had 
been  choice  of  repeating  it  of  late  years,  and  in  earlier 
days  there  were  reasons  why  the  history  should  be  made 
known  to  few.  But  for  Captain  Macon's  concession  to 
his  favorite  daughter's  entreaties  in  their  tete-a-tete  talk 
on  the  night  of  the  "maddest,  gloriousest  storm,"  the 
chances  are  that  the  witch  would  never  have  had  an 
inkling  of  the  existence  of  the  mystery.  If  the  raconteur 
had  lived  in  this  day  she  might  have  pleaded  that  the 
natural  emotion  consequent  upon  the  narration,  the  in- 
evitable return  in  some  measure,  of  the  excitement  of 
the  events  she  recalled,  would  draw  so  heavily  upon 
nervous  forces,  involve  so  rapid  a  waste  of  cellular 
tissue,  that  it  was  not  safe  to  repeat  it  too  often  or 
abruptly. 

Aunt  Betsey  liked  attention,  and  to  have  her  tales 
made  much  of.  Her  professional  eye  appreciated  the 
possibilities  of  the  present  situation.  Christmas  night  •, 
a  circle  of  enthusiastic  young  listeners ;  firelight  and 


170  JUDITH: 

"  the  tumultuous  privacy  of  storm  ;"  herself  the  only 
elderly  person  importuned,  or  even  invited  to  contribute 
to  the  enjoyment  of  the  gay  party  !  Quibble  and  pro- 
test and  disclaimer  were  meet  prefatory  ceremonies, 
like  undoing  the  clasps,  opening  the  volume  and  clear- 
ing one's  throat  before  beginning  what  everybody  was 
dying  to  hear.  To  this  commingling  of  motives  and 
emotion  we  were  indebted  for  the  true  and  authentic  ac- 
count of  THE  TRTJEHEART  GHOST. 


CHAPTEE  XI. 

"  MADAM  TRUEHEART,  as  she  was  generally  called, 
was  Tom  Trueheart's  great  aunt-in-law, "  began  the 
blessed  woman,  careful  and  conscientious  of  genealogi- 
cal degrees.  "She  was  a  widow  when  she  married 
Colonel  Trueheart.  She  was  a  cousin  of  my  mother, 
and  showed  her  French  extraction  very  distinctly, 
having  black  eyes  and  hair  and  a  clear  brunette  com- 
plexion. Her  features  were  fine  and  distinguished, 
and  her  carriage  was  a  model  of  dignity  and  grace. 
Some  thought  her  haughty  as  a  girl.  As  she  grew  older 
she  was  reserved  and  grave.  After  the  death  of  her 
husband  and  the  loss,  one  after  another,  of  four  child- 
ren, she  was  rarely  seen  to  smile.  Colonel  Trueheart 
was  a  jolly,  loud-talking,  loud-laughing,  fox-hunting 
'squire  of  the  old  English  school.  His  wife  had  been 
dead  a  year  when  he  paid  a  visit  to  Mrs.  Eland's  (her 
first  husband  was  a  Bland)  brother,  in  Amelia  County  ; 
fell  violently  in  love  with  her,  and  gave  her  no  peace 
until  she  married  him.  He  had  three  sons,  all  settled 
in  homes  of  their  own,  so  his  residence,  Selma,  about 
half  a  mile  beyond  the  city  of  Richmond,  was  left  to 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         171 

these  two.  It  was  a  beautiful  place,  and  had  a  large 
plantation  attached  to  it.  The  Colonel  lived  like  a  lord 
— plenty  of  servants,  blooded  horses,  a  pack  of  hounds,  a 
cellar  of  choice  wines,  and  a  houseful  of  company  the 
year  around.  His  table  was  celebrated  as  one  of  the 
best  in  the  state. 

"  I  recollect " — laughing — "  that  Uncle  Windsor,  then 
our  carriage-driver,  remarked  once  to  'Ritta,  in  my 
sister  Judith's  hearing,  '  Colonel  Trueheart's  'stablish- 
ment  allers  fotches  to  my  min'  de  story  of  dat  rich  man 
in  de  Scripters,  whar  fared  presumptuously  every  day. 
'Pears  like  tain't  fyar  to  have  all  dat,  and  Heaben  too. ' 

"If  the  Colonel  had  any  such  scruples  he  kept  them 
so  close  that  nobody  guessed  at  them.  He  got  louder 
in  talk  and  redder  in  the  face ;  ate  and  drank  more,  and 
hunted  harder  every  year,  his  wife  all  the  time  growing 
paler  and  quieter.  It  was  said  she  got  out  of  the  habit 
of  talking  through  spending  so  much  time  alone,  for 
the  Colonel  was  very  little  at  home,  except  when  his 
dining  days  and  game  and  oyster  suppers  were  on  hand. 
Sometimes  he  would  be  away  for  two  or  three  weeks, 
junketing  in  the  houses  of  his  country  friends,  and 
Madam  Trueheart  gradually  fell  into  a  way  of  remain- 
ing behind  at  Selma.  It  was  said  she  was  not  in  strong 
health,  and  had  no  relish  for  gay  society.  For  all  that, 
the  Colonel  was  very  fond  and  proud  of  her,  and  was 
never  heard  to  speak  unkindly  to  her.  It  was  asserted, 
too,  by  those  who  knew  them  well,  that  he  never  swore 
in  her  presence,  but  I  cannot  vouch  for  that. 

"  I  was  very  young  when  I  paid  my  first  visit  there, 
but  I  remember  how  shocked  I  was  at  his  free-and-easy 
manners,  and  how  odd  it  was  to  see  him  dip  his  own 
spoon  or  fork  into  the  dishes  nearest  to  him  while  he 
was  telh'ng  hunting  and  fighting  stories,  and  Madam 
Trueheart,  in  her  black  satin  or  velvet — she  never  wore 


172  JUDITH: 

colors — and  rich  laces,  sat  up  straight  and  handsome  at 
the  head  of  the  table,  scarcely  speaking  unless  when  some 
one  asked  a  question.  She  read  a  great  deal  and  wrote 
much,  generally  at  night,  sitting  up  very  late  at  her  sec- 
retary, writing  for  hours  and  hours.  Her  desk  was  full 
of  manuscripts — so  said  those  who  had  chanced  to  see 
it  open  during  her  lifetime.  When  she  died  it  was 
empty.  She  had  burned  every  page,  even  the  letters 
she  had  received. 

"  The  Colonel  went  first,  ten  years  before  her,  and, 
as  everybody  had  predicted,  was  carried  off  by  apoplexy. 
He  never  spoke  after  the  stroke.  He  was  fifty  when  he 
married  Mrs.  Bland,  sixty  when  he  died.  The  home- 
stead was  left  to  her  during  her  lifetime,  with  enough 
to  keep  it  up  well,  upon  condition  that  she  continued  to 
occupy  it.  At  her  death  this  was  to  go  to  his  sons.  Her 
thirds  were  hers  in  fee-simple  in  any  event.  It  was 
considered  a  very  handsome  provision  for  her.  She  was 
executrix  and  administratrix.  The  Colonel  had  a  high 
opinion  of  her  business  abilities. 

"  Five  or  six  years  after  his  death  I  went  to  Rich- 
mond to  visit  my  friends,  the  Pleasantses.  Madam 
Trueheart  drove  into  town  to  see  me  as  soon  as  she 
heard  I  was  there,  and  invited  Betty  Lyle  (who  was 
with  me  at  the  Pleasantses')  and  myself  to  spend  a 
week  at  Selma.  We  accepted,  and  the  day  was  set  for 
her  to  send  for  us.  But  Betty  was  called  home  by  her 
mother's  sickness,  and  I  had  to  go  alone.  The  house  was 
of  brick  and  large,  with  a  deep  hall  running  through- 
out the  entire  depth.  At  the  right  of  this  as  you  en- 
tered was  a  great  drawing-room,  with  windows  at  the 
front  and  side.  Behind  this  was  '  the  chamber  '  where 
Madam  sat  by  day  and  slept  by  night ;  back  of  it,  store- 
room and  linen-closets.  On  the  other  side  of  the  hall 
was  a  sort  of  ante-room,  a  cross-passage,  out  of  which 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          173 

the  staircase  ran  up  to  the  second  floor.  An  arch,  filled 
with  a  Venetian-blind  door,  separated  this  from  the 
main  hall,  and  another  archway,  just  like  it,  divided 
the  front  hall  from  the  back.  Next  to  the  ante-chamber 
was  the  dining-room ;  back  of  it  a  smaller  apartment, 
which  I  was  to  occupy.  The  library  was  in  a  wing, 
jutting  out  at  the  rear  of  my  bedroom. 

"  '  I  meant  to  put  you  and  your  friend  in  the  chamber 
over  mine,'  said  Madam.  'But  you  might  be  lonely 
there. ' 

"I  told  her  that  I  was  not  timid,  yet  that  I  should 
rather  be  near  her  in  case  of  sickness  or  any  such 
thing,  and  thanked  her  for  her  thoughtfulness.  I 
always  liked  and  admired  Madam  Trueheart,  and, 
although  I  was  not  bold  enough  to  tell  her  so,  I  suspect 
that  she  had  found  it  out.  Her  steady  black  eyes  saw 
far  into  character  and  motives.  She  was  very  kind  to 
me  all  that  evening,  really  exerting  herself  to  talk,  and 
listening,  as  if  she  enjoyed  it,  to  my  account  of  the  par- 
ties I  had  attended  in  Richmond  and  to  stories  of 
my  home-life.  After  supper  she  played  for  me  on  the 
spinnet  in  the  parlor,  a  fine  instrument,  for  which  the 
Colonel  had  sent  to  England  in  the  lifetime  of  his  first 
wife.  Then  she  took  me  into  the  library. 

"  '  I  remember  how  fond  you  were  of  reading  as  a 
child,  and  how  well  you  read  aloud,'  she  was  pleased  to 
say.  '  Do  you  still  like  it  well  enough  to  let  me  enjoy 
one  of  these  with  you  to-night  ?' 

"I  was  delighted,  of  course.  New  books  were  a 
rarity  to  a  country  girl,  and  she  had  the  '  Mysteries  of 
Udolpho  '  and  the  '  Children  of  the  Abbey  '  and  seve- 
ral others  I  had  never  seen  before.  I  chose  Mrs.  Inch- 
bald's  'Simple  Story,' and  carried  it  with  me  into  the 
chamber.  Madam  sat  upright  in  her  chair  at  one  cor- 
ner of  the  fireplace  making  knotted  curtain-fringe 


174  JUDITH: 

while  I  read.  It  impressed  me  sadly  that  evening  to 
fancy  how  many  nights  she  must  have  sat  just  there, 
with  no  company  but  the  lamp  and  the  fire.  I  won- 
dered, as  I  had  often  heard  others  do,  that  she  could  be 
willing  to  lead  such  a  solitary  life.  The  Pleasantses  had 
spoken  of  her  invitation  to  me  as  a  high  compliment, 
since  she  hardly  ever  had  even  a  grandchild  pass  the 
night  with  her.  But  she  was  particularly  fond  of  my 
mother,  the  two  having  been  reared  more  like  sisters 
than  cousins.  At  ten  o'clock  she  made  me  put  by  my 
book  and  eat  a  sugar-cake  and  drink  a  glass  of  wine — 
'  to  coax  sound  sleep,'  she  said. 

"  '  I  do  not  need  it  for  that  purpose,'  answered  I.  'It 
is  very  unusual  for  me  to  awake  from  the  moment  my 
head  touches  the  pillow  until  morning.' 

"  '  That  is  young  people's  sleep,'  she  said,  half-sigh- 
ing. '  I  will  go  with  you  to  your  room,  and  see  that 
you  are  comfortable  for  the  night. ' 

"  She  had  not  told  me  to  bring  my  maid,  and  one  of 
hers  had  waited  on  me  when  I  arrived  that  day.  This 
woman  was  in  my  bedroom  now.  Madam  dismissed  her 
when  she  had  seen  that  fire,  water  and  towels  were  all 
right.  I  recalled  then,  as  one  of  the  peculiarities  I  had 
heard  spoken  of,  that  she  never  let  a  servant  stay  in  the 
house  over  night.  An  immense  Newfoundland  dog 
slept  on  the  hearth-rug  in  the  chamber,  and  in  the  day 
patroled  the  premises.  Madam  may  have  been  eccen- 
tric in  some  respects,  but  she  was  all  goodness  to  me, 
sitting  by  my  fire  while  I  combed  my  hair,  and  talking 
pleasantly  of  my  mother  and  old  times  until  it  was  time 
to  say  '  Good  night. '  Then  she  kissed  me,  and  told  me 
not  to  forget  how  near  she  was  to  me  should  I  awake  in 
the  night.  The  rain  had  begun  to  fall  quite  heavily, 
and  the  patter  on  the  porch-roof  soon  put  me  to  sleep. 
I  did  not  open  my  eyes  or  stir  until  morning." 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          175 

"  No  ghost  that  night !"  ejaculated  Harry,  in  resent- 
ful chagrin. 

"  No,  nor  on  the  next.  A  November  storm  had  set 
in,  and  lasted  two  days.  I  was  not  homesick  or  low- 
spirited.  In  the  library  were  many  interesting  books 
new  to  me.  I  was  fond  of  fancy  work,  and  Madam 
taught  me  two  or  three  lovely  stitches,  gave  me  cotton, 
and  showed  me  how  to  begin  a  set  of  fringes  as  a  gift 
for  my  mother.  She  proved  a  delightful  companion, 
and  that  was  a  surprise.  She  was  well-read  in  English 
literature,  had  seen  much  of  the  world,  and  thought 
deeply.  We  finished  '  A  Simple  Story '  on  the  third 
night  by  nine  o'clock,  and  sat  for  nearly  an  hour  talk- 
ing it  over  cheerfully.  Then  I  ate  an  apple  instead  of 
drinking  the  wine  she  oifered — a  big,  dark-red  wine-sap 
— at  which  she  said  something  about  my  preferring  to 
take  my  liqueur  in  that  form,  and  I  laughed.  I  mention 
these  trifles  to  show  that  my  brain  was  not  excited  by 
talk  or  stimulant.  I  never  felt  better  or  brighter  than 
when  I  lighted  my  candle  to  go  to  my  room.  Rosina, 
the  servant  who  waited  on  me,  had  gone  to  bed  early 
with  a  headache. 

"  'I  will  see  that  all  is  in  order  in  your  chamber,' 
said  Madam,  putting  up  her  work. 

"'Please  don't  stir,'  I  begged.  'I  am  surely  suf- 
ficiently at  home  to  look  after  myself  a  little,'  and  off 
I  went. 

"My  wax  candle  gave  an  excellent  light,  and  I  carried 
it  before  me.  In  closing  the  door  of  Madam's  bedroom 
I  faced  that  of  mine  just  across  the  passage.  This 
was  narrower  than  the  square  front  hall,  being  not 
more  than  six  feet  wide,  and  shut  off  from  that,  as  I 
have  said,  by  Venetian  blinds.  These  I  had  seen 
Madam  bolt  at  the  same  time  that  I  locked  the  back 
door  at  the  other  end  of  the  passage,  after  Rosina  went 


176  JUDITH: 

out  soon  after  supper.  Just  as  I  shut  the  chamber 
door  behind  me,  a  little  woman  started  right  out  of  the 
opposite  door,  glided  slowly  along  the  wall,  her  head 
bowed  upon  her  hands — in  this  way — crouching  as  she 
went,  and  vanished  at  the  green  blinds. 

"  'Who  was  that  ?'  thought  I,  catching  my  breath. 
'  Probably  one  of  the  servants  who  had  fallen  asleep  in 
my  room,  and  slipped  out  of  sight  when  she  heard  me 
coming.  She  moved  like  a  cat. '  Then,  like  a  flash  of 
lightning — '  How  did  she  get  through  the  blinds  without 
unbolting  them  ?'  Lastly — '  She  did  not  open  my  door 
— only  came  out  of  it  /' 

"We  come  of  a  brave  race,  and  I  had  always  prided 
myself  upon  being  afraid  of  nothing.  My  father  had 
trained  us  to  hold  ghost  stories  in  profound  contempt. 
I  had  never  had  a  thrill  of  superstitious  dread  in  my 
life  ;  yet  I  staggered  back  into  Madam's  room,  white  as 
a  shroud,  set  down  the  candle  I  was  too  weak  to  hold, 
and  said : 

"  '  I  have  seen  a  ghost !' 

"Madam  was  as  pale  as  I — stood  up,  straight  and 
rigid. 

"  '  Child  !  what  do  you  say  ?' 

"  '  If  there  is  such  a  thing  as  a  ghost,  I  have  seen  one !' 

"Without  a  word  she  picked  up  my  candle  and 
walked  into  the  hall.  I  heard  her  try  blinds  and  back 
door,  go  into  my  room  and  examine  the  fastenings  of 
my  windows.  When  she  came  back  she  poured  out  a 
glass  of  wine  and  made  me  drink  it,  looking  so  set  and 
stern  that  I  was  afraid  she  did  not  believe  me. 

"'Indeed,  ma'am,'  I  said,  sick  and  trembling,  and 
stammering  on  every  word,  '  I  am  sorry  I  startled  you — 
very  much  ashamed  to  seem  so  foolish  I  But  I  did  see 
something  !  Quite  near  to  me — so  close  I  could  almost 
have  touched  it  I' 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          177 

"  '  I  do  not  doubt  it,  child.     What  was  it  ?' 

"  'A  small  woman,  dressed  in  some  sort  of  grayish- 
yellow  gown.  Her  head  was  bent  low,  so  that  I  could 
not  see  her  face.  She  seemed  to  shrink  away  from  me 
as  she  slipped  along  close  to  the  wall.  She  disappeared 
at  the  blinds.  But  they  did  not  open  ;  nor  my  door,  to 
let  her  out !' 

"  I  began  to  shake  again. 

"  'Do  not  try  to  talk,  my  dear!'  (She  had  never 
called  me  so  before. )  '  You  shall  sleep  with  me  to- 
night,' said  Madam,  soothingly.  'To-morrow,  if  you 
wish  it,  you  shall  go  back  to  town. ' 

"Not  another  syllable  would  she  let  me  speak  about 
the  fright.  She  went  to  my  room  with  me  to  get  what 
I  needed  for  that  night  and  next  morning,  for  which  I 
was  infinitely  obliged  to  her.  I  could  not  forget  that  IT 
had  come  out  of  that  chamber,  and  I  dared  not  glance 
over  my  shoulder. 

"By  daylight  I  was  braver  and  disposed  to  question 
the  evidence  of  my  own  eyes.  What  could  I  say  if  I 
returned  to  the  Pleasantses  so  soon  ?  That  I  had  been 
scared  away  by  an  apparition  ?  They  would  never  get 
done  teasing  me  about  it.  That  I  was  '  blue, '  and  had 
had  a  stupid  visit  ?  when  Madam  had  done  her  best  to 
make  me  happy ! 

"  After  breakfast,  in  the  chamber  into  which  the  sun 
shone  clearly  after  the  storm,  the  fire  blazing  merrily, 
and  Carlo  asleep  on  the  hottest  part  of  the  rug,  flowers 
in  the  windows  and  Madam  busy  with  her  knotting — 
with  everything  looking  natural  and  everyday-like  and 
inviting,  even  to  the  novel  I  meant  to  begin  that  morn- 
ing— I  made  up  my  mind.  I  told  Madam  that  I  pre- 
ferred to  remain  a  few  days  longer  with  her  if  she  would 
allow  it.  What  I  had  seen  might  have  been  an  optical 
illusion — a  trick  of  my  brain,  caused  by  too  much  read- 


178  JUDITH: 

ing  and  too  little  exercise.  I  wished  her  to  forget  it, 
and  to  let  things  go  on  as  before.  And  I  was  having  a 
delightful  visit. 

"  She  was  gratified  and  touched.  I  could  see  that. 
Still  she  assured  me  that  she  would  not  be  hurt  or 
offended  if  I  went  away  now.  She  only  stipulated  that 
I  should  tell  nobody  why  I  did  not  finish  my  visit. 

"  '  I  should  be  extremely  sorry  were  the  house  to  get 
the  reputation  of  being  haunted,'  she  remarked.  'It 
is  property  left  to  me  in  trust  for  Colonel  Trueheart's 
children  and  grandchildren.  If  this  story  were  to  get 
abroad  it  would  lower  the  value  of  it  seriously.  It 
would  be  hard  to  dispose  of  it  at  any  price.  I  say  this 
frankly  to  you,  for  you  are  a  sensible  girl. ' 

"After  that  she  could  not  have  driven  me  away.  I 
said  so,  and  the  matter  was  put  aside.  We  had  another 
busy,  quiet  day,  varied  by  a  drive  into  town  and  a  little 
shopping.  That  night  I  stayed  again  in  her  chamber, 
resting  well  and  seeing  and  hearing  nothing  unusual. 
The  next  evening,  just  before  supper-time,  we  were 
agreeably  surprised  by  a  visit  from  Captain  Macon.  He 
had  come  to  town  on  business — " 

"  Of  vital  importance  I"  Thus  Harry  Macon,  paren- 
thetical and  saucy. 

Aunt  Betsey  nipped  her  ear  and  continued  undaunt- 
edly: 

"  On  business !  to  arrange  about  the  sale  of  his  to- 
bacco !  Of  course  he  desired  to  pay  his  respects  to 
Madam  Trueheart,  whom  he  had  known  always.  She 
had  his  horse  taken  around  to  the  stables,  and  urged 
him  to  stay  to  supper,  which  he  consented  to  do.  At 
ten  o'clock  he  got  up  to  go.  We  were  sitting  in  the 
drawing-room.  Madam  had  a  slight  cold  and  had  ex- 
cused herself  an  hour  or  two  earlier,  saying  that  she 
felt  the  change  in  the  temperature  very  sensibly,  her 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          179 

chamber  being  warmer  than  this  large  parlor.  She 
thought  it  prudent  to  go  back  to  her  own  fireside." 

"Considerate,  delightful  old  lady!"  murmured  the 
incorrigible. 

"At  ten  o'clock,  as  I  said,"  pursued  the  narrator, 
"  he  arose  to  go,  and  I  went  with  him  to  the  parlor-door. 

"  '  Why,  the  hall  is  all  dark  !'  I  exclaimed. 

"  It  was  usually  lighted  by  three  wax  candles  in  a 
chandelier  hanging  from  the  ceiling.  We  supposed,  in 
talking  of  it  afterward,  that  they  must  have  been  blown 
out  by  a  gust  of  wind  from  the  back  door  when  the  ser- 
vants left  the  house  for  the  night.  The  door  of  the 
drawing-room  had  a  way  of  swinging  to  of  itself,  and  as 
I  passed  the  threshold  it  shut  behind  us.  Our  eyes  were 
naturally  drawn,  in  the  absence  of  other  light,  to  a  win- 
dow directly  opposite.  The  shutters  of  this  were  open, 
and  the  moonbeams  streamed  in.  I  have  described  the 
sort  of  ante-chamber  at  the  left  of  the  front  hall. 
Through  the  archway  connecting  the  two  we  had  a  full 
view  of  the  staircase.  It  was  broad,  and  had  two  land- 
ings. On  the  lower  was  the  moonlit  window,  opening 
down  to  the  floor.  Somebody  was  descending  the  stairs 
between  the  upper  and  lower  landings.  A  small  figure, 
all  in  white,  a  gown  that  trailed  on  the  steps  behind 
her,  and  over  her  head  something  like  a  long  bridal 
veil. 

"  I  caught  Captain  Macon's  arm,  too  terrified  to  utter 
a  word.  It  did  not  occur  to  him  that  there  was  any- 
thing supernatural  in  the  appearance,  but  imagining 
that  I  meant  him  to  be  quiet,  he  stood  perfectly  still 
with  me  in  the  recess  made  by  the  closed  parlor  door. 
The  Thing  came  down  very  slowly,  step  by  step,  making 
no  noise  as  it  moved  ;  crossed  the  flood  of  moonlight, 
turned  on  the  landing  and  glided  down  the  four  re- 
maining steps,  its  back  to  the  window,  and,  therefore, 


180  JUDITH: 

facing  us.  It  was  within  ten  feet  of  us  when  Madam 
Trueheart's  voice  was  heard  from  the  back  hall. 

"'Did  I  hear  you  say  that  the  lights  are  out,  Bet- 
sey ?'  she  called. 

The  Creature — whatever  It  was — disappeared  in- 
stantly !  It  did  not  run  away  or  sink  into  the  floor  or 
rise  into  the  air,  but  simply  was  not !  The  place  where 
it  had  stood  a  second  before  was  empty,  and  we  had 
not  moved  our  eyes  from  it." 

A  long,  shuddering  sigh  was  exhaled  from  a  dozen 
pair  of  lungs,  as  she  made  at  this  point  a  rhetorical 
pause.  Mr.  Bradley  stealthily  stirred  the  coals  under 
the  forestick  to  heighten  the  illumination  of  the  room. 

"  Go  on  !"  said  Harry,  in  a  deep,  awed  voice.  "  It 
would  kill  us  were  you  to  trifle  with  our  curiosity  now  I" 

"  I  have  no  disposition  to  trifle  with  you,  my  dear, 
or  to  speak  lightly  of  any  part  of  a  strange,  true  story — 
one  which  was  very  distressing  at  the  time.  Why  I 
neither  fainted  nor  went  into  hysterics  I  do  not  know, 
unless  that  I  never  was  in  the  habit  of  doing  either. 
Captain  Macon  complimented  me  on  my  nerve.  Ma- 
dam expressed  her  thankfulness  that  the  shock  had  not 
been  a  serious  injury  to  me.  She  was  cool  and  collected 
through  it  all.  At  Captain  Macon's  earnest  request, 
she  let  him  take  a  light  and  examine  every  part  of  the 
house.  Besides  ourselves  not  a  human  being  was  in  it. 
Madam  Trueheart  led  the  way  into  her  chamber  when 
the  search  was  over. 

"  '  May  I  ask  of  you,  as  a  great  favor,  to  spend  the 
night  in  this  house  ?'  she  said  to  our  guest. 

"  He  bowed.  '  I  am  honored  by  the  invitation,  Ma- 
dam, and  accept  it  with  pleasure.' 

"She  knew  him  too  well,  you  see,  to  inquire  if  he 
would  be  unwilling  to  stay.  He  was  never  afraid  of  the 
living  or  the  dead.  If  she  had  not  proposed  it  he  would 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         181 

have  asked  the  privilege  of  remaining.  When  I  could 
speak  without  a  break  in  my  voice,  and  laugh  at  Cap- 
tain Macon's  praises  of  my  self-control,  Madam  did  a 
singular  thing  (for  her),  yet  it  was  the  most  sensible 
step  she  could  have  taken.  She  took  us  into  her  confi- 
dence. 

'"It  was  within  six  months  after  I  came  to  Selma  to 
live  that  I  had  the  first  intimation  that  all  was  not  right 
with  the  house,'  she  said.  '  Colonel  Trueheart  was  not 
at  home,  and  I  had  gone  to  bed  rather  early  one  night, 
leaving  the  fire  burning  as  brightlyas  it  does  now.  I 
was  not  drowsy,  but  the  firelight  was  too  strong  to  be 
comfortable  to  my  eyes,  and  I  shut  them,  lying  quietly 
at  ease  among  the  pillows,  my  thoughts  busy  and  far 
away.  There  was  no  sound  except  the  crackling  of 
the  blaze,  but  suddenly  I  felt  the  pressure  of  two  hands 
on  the  bed-clothes  covering  my  feet.  They  rested  there 
for  a  moment,  were  lifted  and  laid  upon  my  ankles, 
moving  regularly  upward  until  I  felt  them  lie  more 
heavily  on  my  chest.  I  was  sure  that  a  robber  had 
found  his  way  into  the  house  and  wanted  to  convince 
himself  that  I  was  really  asleep  before  beginning  to 
plunder.  My  one  hope  of  life  was  to  remain  perfectly 
still,  to  breathe  easily,  and  keep  my  eyes  shut.  This  I 
did,  the  sense  of  hearing  made  more  acute  by  intense 
excitement,  but  my  reason  singularly  steady.  When 
the  hands  reached  my  chest  Something  looked  close  into 
my  face.  There  was  no  breath  or  audible  movement, 
but  I  felt  the  gaze.  Then  the  pressure  was  removed — 
the  Presence  was  gone  !  I  lay  still  until  I  counted  de- 
liberately fifty,  to  assure  myself  that  I  was  in  full  pos- 
session of  my  senses,  and  sat  up.  The  fire  showed  every 
object  distinctly.  I  was  alone  in  the  chamber.  I  arose, 
looked  under  the  bed  and  in  the  wardrobe,  but  found 
nobody.  The  windows  and  shutters  were  bolted  fast, 


182  JUDITH: 

the  door  was  locked.  Yet,  so  strong  was  my  persua« 
sion  that  the  visitation  was  not  a  trick  of  the  imagina- 
tion that  I  sat  up  for  the  rest  of  the  night,  keeping  fire 
and  candle  burning. 

"  '  When  Colonel  Trueheart  returned  I  told  him  what 
had  happened.  He  laughed  heartily,  and  "hoped  the 
like  might  occur  when  he  was  at  home."  Three  months 
later  I  felt  the  same  pressure  in  the  same  order  of 
movement.  It  was  on  a  warm  night  in  spring,  and 
through  the  lighter  coverings  I  fancied  I  could  discern 
that  the  hands  were  small,  the  fingers  slight,  like  those 
of  a  child  or  a  little  woman.  I  tried  to  call  the  Colonel, 
but  could  not  speak  until  the  Presence  had  stooped,  as 
before,  to  look  in  my  face  and  departed.  Colonel  True- 
heart  awoke  at  my  voice,  was  greatly  amazed  at  what 
I  told  him,  and  insisted  upon  making  just  such  a  tour 
of  the  house  as  you  have  just  instituted,  Captain  Macon. 
This  over,  he  tried  to  convince  me  that  I  had  been 
dreaming,  or  that  the  sensation  was  caused  by  some 
obstruction  of  circulation.  I  did  not  argue  the  point, 
but  when,  some  weeks  afterward,  I  had  a  similar  expe- 
rience, asked  him  seriously  if  he  had  ever  heard  that 
any  one  else  was  disturbed  in  this  way.  He  hesitated, 
tried  to  put  me  off,  and  finally  owned  that  his  first  wife 
had  declared  to  him  privately  her  belief  that  the  house 
was  haunted.  That  she  complained  of  hearing  unac- 
countable noises  at  night ;  that  Things  passed  and 
touched  her  in  the  halls  after  dark ;  and  once  in  the  day- 
time, when  she  was  sitting  alone  in  her  room,  Some- 
thing had  plucked  her  by  the  elbow  with  such  force  as 
almost  to  pull  her  from  her  chair.  She  was  delicate  and 
nervous,  and  he  had  attached  no  importance  to  her 
fancies. 

" ' "  If  sickly  women  and  superstitious  negroes  are  to 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         183 

be  believed,  half  the  country-houses  in  Virginia  are 
haunted,"  he  said. 

"'He  cautioned  me  to  say  nothing  on  the  subject, 
else  "  there  would  be  no  such  thing  as  keeping  a 
servant  on  the  premises,  and  the  house  would  not  sell 
for  the  worth  of  the  bricks  should  it  ever  come  into 
the  market." 

"  '  Two  years  went  by  without  farther  disturbance. 
Then  it  came  in  a  different  form.  One  night,  as  I  was 
locking  the  back  door,  holding  a  candle  in  my  left 
hand,  I  heard  a  slight  sound,  like  a  sigh  or  long  breath, 
and,  looking  up,  saw  a  woman  moving  past  and  away 
from  me,  just  as  Betsey  has  described.  She  was  dressed 
in  a  misty  yellow-gray  or  grayish-yellow  gown,  as 
Betsey  saw  her,  but  with  a  white  handkerchief  or  cap 
on  her  head.  I  had  time  to  notice  that  she  was  small 
of  stature,  and  that  she  glided  along  noiselessly.  At 
the  closed  Venetian  blinds  she  vanished.  Colonel  True- 
heart  entered  the  front  door  the  next  instant,  and  I 
made  known  to  him  what  I  had  witnessed.  He  ridi- 
culed the  theory  that  it  was  supernatural,  evidently 
suspecting  some  malicious  or  mischievous  prank  on  the 
part  of  one  of  the  servants.  After  a  second  thorough 
search  of  the  house,  he  loaded  his  pistols  and  put  them 
under  his  pillow,  "  to  be  ready,"  he  said,  "  for  the  next 
scare."  He  always  slept  with  them  under  his  head 
afterward. 

'"Again,  for  months,  nothing  unusual  occurred. 
Then  the  pressure  of  the  hands  became  frequent.  From 
that  time  up  to  the  night  .preceding  Colonel  Trueheart's 
death  scarcely  a  fortnight  elapsed  without  my  feeling 
them.  Always  beginning  at  my  feet — always  ending  at 
my  chest ;  always  that  long  felt  gaze  into  my  face,  then 
It  was  gone !  Sometimes  I  strained  my  eyes  in  the 
darkness  to  catch  some  outline  or  shadow  ;  again  and 


184  JUDITH: 

again  I  opened  them  abruptly  in  the  firelight  or  moon- 
light to  surprise  whatever  it  might  be  into  revealing  It- 
self. I  never  beheld  face  or  shape  or  any  visible  token  of 
living  thing.  Once  I  succeeded  in  arousing  the  Colonel 
at  the  first  touch  upon  my  feet.  He  struck  a  light  im- 
mediately, but  although  the  regular  movement  con- 
tinued up  to  the  fixed  gaze,  the  room  was  apparently  free 
of  everybody  but  ourselves.  We  had  a  long  consultation 
then.  I  was  hurt  and  angry  that  he  remained  skeptical 
as  to  the  reality  of  the  visitations.  When  all  my  asser- 
tions failed  to  convince  him  that  I  was  not  the  victim 
of  a  nervous  hallucination,  I  said : 

"  '"  I  shall  never  allude  to  this  subject  again,  what- 
ever I  may  see  or  hear." 

"  '  "  I  hope  you  will  keep  your  word,"  he  replied. 

"  'Neither  of  us  ever  mentioned  the  matter  again  to 
one  another.  Sometimes,  when  my  pallor  or  heavy 
eyes  told  that  I  had  not  slept  well,  he  would  look 
at  me  anxiously,  as  if  longing  to  question  me  ;  but  I 
was  proud  and  so  was  he,  and  neither  would  lead  the 
way. 

"  '  On  the  night  before  he  died  he  had  retired  in  his 
usual  health,  and  I  sat  up  late  writing.  My  desk  stood 
at  one  side  of  the  fireplace,  my  back  being  toward  that 
window.  About  twelve  o'clock  I  was  startled  by  a 
rustling  behind  me,  and  turned  quickly,  but  saw  no- 
thing. Something  swept  right  by  me,  with  a  sound  like 
the  waving  of  silk  drapery,  and  passed  toward  the  bed. 
I  followed  It,  looked  under  the  valance,  behind  the  cur- 
tains— all  through  the  room,  but  found  nobody.  I  said 
aloud,  to  reassure  myself,  "It  must  have  been  the 
wind  1"  and  returned  to  my  desk.  In  perhaps  fifteen 
minutes  I  heard  the  same  sound  going  by  me,  as  before, 
toward  the  bed.  In  just  half  an  hour  more  by  my  watch, 
which  I  had  laid  on  the  desk,  It  came  again.  Carlo, 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         185 

then  hardly  more  than  a  puppy,  howled  and  ran  behind 
my  chair.  I  felt  then  that  I  could  bear  it  no  longer, 
moved  toward  the  bed  to  awaken  my  husband.  He 
was  sleeping  so  soundly  that,  although  I  passed  the 
candle  close  before  his  eyes,  he  did  not  stir.  I  thought  I 
would  wait  to  hear  or  see  something  more  before  arous- 
ing him.  Nothing  came.  Carlo  went  back  to  his 
place  on  the  rug,  and  I  sat  up  all  night,  listening 
and  watching. 

"  '  Colonel  Trueheart  arose  next  morning  to  all  ap- 
pearance perfectly  well.  At  nine  o'clock  he  had  an 
apoplectic  stroke.  At  twelve  he  died.  His  will,  exe- 
cuted two  years  before,  directed  that  I  should  continue 
to  live  here  and  take  care  of  the  place  for  his  children. 
I  have  done  so  at  less  cost  of  feeling  and  health  than  I 
anticipated.  But  once  in  five  years  have  I  had  any 
reason  to  believe  that  the  uneasy  spirit — if  spirit  it  was 
— still  walked  the  premises.  One  night,  in  the  second 
j^ear  of  my  widowhood,  as  I  was  coming  down  stairs, 
soon  after  supper,  with  a  light  in  my  hand,  I  heard  the 
sweeping  of  a  gown,  the  tap  of  high  heels  behind  me. 
On  the  lower  landing  I  stopped,  wheeled  short  around, 
held  up  my  light,  and  looked  back.  The  steps  had  been 
close  on  my  track,  but  the  staircase  was  empty  and  now 
silent. 

"  '  I  had  flattered  myself  that  there  would  never  be  a 
return  of  ghostly  sights  or  sounds  after  four  years  of 
exemption.  Least  of  all  did  I  dream  that  one  not  con- 
nected with  the  family  would  be  visited  by  such  appa- 
ritions should  they  come.' 

"This  was  the  story.  If  Madam  guessed  at  anything 
else,  if  she  had  any  theory  as  to  the  cause  of  the  visita- 
tion, she  never  intimated  it.  Captain  Macon  privately 
instituted  inquiries,  at  a  later  period,  respecting  the 
past  history  of  the  house,  but  without  striking  any  trail 


186  JUDITH: 

that  promised  to  unravel  the  mystery.  It  had  been 
built  by  a  Trueheart,  and  the  estate  had  descended  in 
the  direct  line  to  the  Colonel.  "We  pledged  our  word  vol- 
untarily to  Madam  never  to  speak  of  what  we  had  seen 
while  the  truth  could  affect  the  value  of  the  property, 
or  cast  imputation  upon  the  character  of  those  who 
had  owned  it.  We  kept  silent  until  Madam  had  been 
fifteen  years  in  her  grave.  Then  Captain  Macon  rode 
over  one  day  to  show  me  a  paragraph  in  a  Richmond 
newspaper.  I  have  it  safe  up  stairs  in  my  reliquary, 
but  I  can  repeat  it,  word  for  word  : 

" '  The  march  of  improvement  westward  has  con- 
demned to  demolition,  among  other  fine  old  mansions, 
Selma,  the  ancestral  home  of  the  Truehearts.  It  passed 
out  of  the  family  at  the  demise  of  Mrs.  Augusta  Har- 
rison Trueheart,  relict  of  the  late  Colonel  Elbert  True- 
heart.  In  order  to  effect  an  equitable  division  of  the 
estate,  the  residence  and  contiguous  plantation  were 
sold.  The  extensive  grounds  have  been  cut  up  into 
building  lots,  and  the  mansion — a  noble  one  in  its  day, 
although  sadly  neglected  of  late  years — standing  di- 
rectly in  the  line  of  the  extension  of Street,  has 

been  bought  by  the  city  to  be  pulled  down  and  carted 
away.  In  grading  the  sidewalk  of  the  proposed  thor- 
oughfare, it  was  necessary  to  dig  down  six  feet  below 
the  present  level,  laying  bare  the  foundations  of  the 
building.  At  the  depth  of  four  feet  from  the  surface, 
directly  under  the  windows,  and  distant  scarcely  three 
feet  from  the  drawing-room,  the  workmen  disinterred 
the  skeleton  of  a  woman  of  diminutive  stature,  which 
had  evidently  lain  there  for  years.  There  were  no  signs 
of  a  coffin  or  coffin-plate.  A  high  tortoise-shell  comb, 
richly  wrought,  was  found  by  the  head.  The  oldest  in- 
habitant of  our  city  has  no  recollection  of  any  interment 
near  this  spot,  nor  would  decent  burial  have  been  made 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         18? 

so  close  to  the  surface.  The  whole  affair  is  wrapped  in 
mystery.'  " 

Another  prolonged  pause.  Then  Harry  raised  both 
hands  to  push  up  her  hair  from  her  forehead,  as  if  the 
weight  oppressed  the  teeming  brain. 

"How  the  storm  roars  !"  she  said.  "Heaven  have 
mercy  upon  the  homeless  souls  wandering  between  sky 
and  earth  to-night  !  Papa  told  me  that  the  secret  is  a 
secret  still,  the  tragedy  unexplained.  Have  you  sus- 
picions of  your  own  ?" 

"  I  know  nothing  beyond  what  you  have  heard.  But 
—  women  who  die  natural  deaths  and  have  Christian 
burial  do  not  wear  expensive  combs,  such  as  belong  to 
party-dresses,  when  they  are  shrouded  for  the  grave. 
Nor  are  they  thrust  into  the  ground  uncoffined  !" 


.  —  The  author  deems  it  well  to  state  that  she 
vouches  personally  for  the  authenticity  of  the  Dream  in 
Chapter  X,  and  likewise  for  the  truth,  in  every  particu- 
lar, of  the  story  related  in  Chapter  XI. 

She  offers  no  explanation  of  the  latter,  nor  is  she  her- 
self a  believer  in  "  spiritualistic  "  phenomena,  or  in  the 
vulgar  hypothesis  of  apparitions  from  the  world  of 
shades.  The  history  of  the  Trueheart  Ghost  is,  from 
first  to  last,  one  of  facts,  supported  by  testimony  that 
cannot  be  impugned.  She  has  not  been  able  to  with- 
stand the  temptation  to  put  these  upon  record  as  a 
curious  study  of  the  supernatural  —  or  the  unaccount- 
able, 


188  JUDITH; 


CHAPTEK  XII. 

I  HAD  never  been  to  Richmond  in  my  life,  and  I  was 
to  spend  a  whole  month  in  the  capital  of  my  day-dreams 
— the  mundane  type  to  me,  ignorant  little  provincial 
that  I  was,  of  the  city  paved  with  gold  and  entered 
through  pearly  gates.  More  than  this,  I  was  to  be  the 
guest  of  my  beloved  Miss  Virginia  Dabney.  She  had 
written  a  long  letter  with  her  own  dear  fingers,  ad- 
dressed on  the  outside,  as  within,  to  me : 

Miss  Judith  R.  Trueheart, 

Head's  Cross-Roads, 

County, 

Virginia. 

My  mother  wrote  to  me  under  cover  to  my  grand- 
mother. This  letter  was  all  my  very  own.  How  grand 
it  looked,  with  the  printed  "Paid  "  in  one  corner,  the 
stamp  of  the  Richmond  Post-Office  in  the  other  !  Post- 
age-stamps were  not  introduced  until  almost  twenty 
years  later.  Envelopes  were  unknown,  and  my  corres- 
pondent paid  ten  cents  in  advance  for  the  thin  single 
sheet,  folded  ingeniously  to  foil  the  curiosity  of  country 
officials,  and  sealed  with  scented  wax. 

I  broke  out  with  the  measles  the  day  after  New 
Year's,  and  was  duly  put  to  bed  under  all  the  blankets 
I  could  bear,  and  not  a  whiff  of  fresh  air  or  drop  of  cold 
water  suffered  to  enter  my  room  for  three  weeks. 
During  this  season  I  was  steamed  and  toasted  and 
drenched  inwardly  with  hot  decoctions  until  the  little 
color  I  could  boast  in  health  was  soaked  out  of  me. 
The  eruption  "  came  out "  finely,  and  went  off  by  or« 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         189 

thodox  degrees,  and  I  appeared  below-stairs  convales- 
cent, but  such  a  weak-eyed,  etiolated  caricature  of 
childhood  as  to  alarm  even  those  who  were  conversant 
with  the  "effects  of  measles."  This  malady,  like 
scarlet-fever  and  whooping-cough,  u  never  left  children 
as  it  found  them."  Often  it  did  not  leave  them  at  all, 
disease  and  patient  going  off  together. 

Aunt  Maria  had  written  to  her  Kichmond  friend  of 
my  inability  to  eat,  study  or  read.  The  result  was  the 
invitation  aforesaid. 

Moreover,  again,  I  traveled  in  the  Hunter's  Eest 
chariot,  newer  and  far  more  elegant  than  the  Summer- 
field  carriage,  and  Miss  Harry  Macon  was  my  traveling 
companion.  The  hereditary  intimacy  between  the 
families  was  to  be  cemented  by  a  visit  of  some  weeks 
from  her  to  the  Dabneys.  Her  maid,  a  "bright" 
mulatto,  the  belle  of  her  set  as  her  mistress  was  in  her 
rank,  accompanied  us,  flirting  on  the  coach-box  with  the 
driver,  but  subject  to  whatever  call  might  be  made  from 
the  interior  upon  her  services. 

Furthermore — if  aught  had  been  lacking  to  com- 
pletest  roundness  of  bliss — Uncle  Archie  was  our 
equerry.  He  never  appeared  better  than  in  the  saddle. 
His  well-knit  limbs,  broad  shoulders,  straight  back — 
so  flat  that  his  mien  was  soldierly — his  excellent  seat 
and  easy  command  of  the  spirited  animal  he  bestrode 
were  remarkable  in  a  neighborhood  where  good  horse- 
manship was  the  rule. 

"  A  prince,  every  inch  of  him  1"  observed  Miss  Harry 
once,  as  he  fell  into  the  rear  to  avoid  the  wheels  in  a 
narrow  part  of  the  road.  "  Sweetbrier  !"  —  she  had 
caught  the  name  from  Miss  Virginia — "  they  don't  make 
better  men  than  your  uncle  there.  I  respect  myself  the 
more  when  I  recollect  that  I  was  born  within  three 
miles  of  him.  He  is  so  strong,  so  upright,  so  real  I  And 


190  JUDITH: 

he  has  never  once  looked  at  me  as  if  he  would  like  t> 
talk  love — or  nonsense — to  me.  I  can't  say  that  for  an- 
other single  man  in  the  county.  I  feel  as  safe  and  com- 
fortable and  protected  when  I  am  with  him  as  I  should 
with  my  very  greatest-grandfather.  It  is  a  high  com- 
pliment, little  woman — don't  forget  it  when  your  turn 
comes  I — to  have  a  young  fellow  talk  to  you  as  if  you 
were  another  man,  with  a  flavoring  of  the  sister  stirred 
in!" 

The  February  day  was  clear  and  fine.  I  remember 
the  glaze  left  by  the  winter's  travel  upon  the  beaten 
red  clay  of  the  highway ;  the  scarlet  wax-wings  feast- 
ing on  the  whitish-blue  berries  of  the  cedars ;  the 
"  cotton- tailed  "  hares  that  scudded  across  the  road,  or 
scampered  over  the  dry  leaves  heaped  in  fence-corners  ; 
the  columnar  vistas  of  frost-work  in  the  clayey  banks, 
of  which  I  made  for  myself  a  fairy  realm,  with  Giants' 
Causeways,  palaces,  and  interminable  arcades  roofed 
with  unbaked  red  tiles.  The  motion,  the  company,  the 
fresh,  pure  air,  wrought  magically  upon  my  anaemic 
frame.  I  was  hungry  before  the  time  came  for  opening 
the  hamper,  in  which  was  stowed  enough  "  snack  "  for 
a  dozen  hedgers  and  ditchers.  Uncle  Archie  accepted  a 
seat  in  the  carriage  while  we  ate  as  much  as  we  could 
of  it. 

Apphia,  Miss  Harry's  Abigail,  appeared  at  the  coach 
door  when  we  halted  to  accomplish  this  change,  and 
dropped  a  courtesy,  her  golden-bronze  visage  alive  with 
glee,  her  cheeks  like  the  sunned  side  of  a  Georgia  peach. 

"Please,  Miss  Harry  !  please,  Mars'  Archie  !  lemme 
ride  him  /"  nodding  at  the  beautiful  hunter  that  would 
have  followed  the  carriage  as  a  kitten  the  one  that 
petted  it. 

Hardly  waiting  for  the  consent  given  by  both,  she 
tossed  one  of  the  stirrups  over  the  man's  saddle  to  do 


A  CHRONICLE  Of1  OLD  VIRGINIA.         191 

pommel-duty,  bounded  into  the  seat  thus  contrived, 
gathered  up  the  bridle  and  rode  alongside  and  behind 
us  for  an  hour  and  more,  managing  the  horse  dex- 
terously, and  sitting  him  with  the  graceful  confidence  of 
an  Amazon.  I  took  in  the  view  of  her  with  lazy  enjoy- 
ment, appreciating,  without  the  capacity  of  expressing 
how  and  why  I  did  so,  the  picturesqueness  of  attitude 
and  costume;  the  red-and-black  handkerchief-turban, 
the  striped  linsey-woolsey  skirt,  yellow  and  dark-blue, 
and  the  scarlet  jacket,  a  cast-off  one  of  her  mistress's, 
which  fitted  her  as  trimly  as  it  did  the  original  owner. 

"  She  puts  me  in  mind  of  a  red-winged  blackbird," 
said  I,  softly,  out  of  my  nest  of  shawls  on  the  back 
seat  which  Miss  Harry  insisted  upon  giving  up  entirely 
to  me. 

Uncle  Archie  cast  toward  me  one  of  the  looks  I 
always  understood  to  mean  that  he  was  especially  and 
fondly  pleased.  Miss  Harry  stooped  impulsively  to 
leave  a  light,  swift  kiss,  such  as  the  humming-bird 
gives  the  flower,  on  my  lips. 

"You  dear  little  thing!"  she  said,  and  a  silly  blur 
fell  between  Apphia  and  me. 

I  was  very  weak  yet,  and  these  two  were  so  good  to 
me !  The  world  was  so  full  of  love  and  beauty  that 
my  heart  ached  suffocatingly  under  its  portion  of  hap- 
piness. The  brooding  softness  of  the  unclouded  blue 
overhead,  the  enveloping  and  invigorating  cheer  of  the 
sunshine,  were  of  the  same  strain  with  the  human  ten- 
derness that  enfolded  me,  body  and  spirit.  It  was  a 
divine  languor  that  overtook  me  when  I  was  again  dis- 
posed among  my  pillows,  covered  up,  tucked  in  cozily 
and  ordered  to  "  take  a  nap,  like  a  darling."  My  eye- 
lids fell,  but  not  in  drowsiness ;  the  talk  of  my  com- 
panions rippled  over  me,  with  wafts  of  the  cool,  sweet 
air  from  the  pine  and  cedar  forests  through  which  our 


i9i  JUDITH: 

route  lay  for  several  miles.  I  could  net  tell  from  which 
I  drew  the  larger  accession  of  strength. 

"  There  is  hardly  enough  body  left  to  hold  her  soul," 
I  heard,  by-and-by,  uttered  low  and  compassionately. 
"I  hope  the  change  will  do  her  good." 

"I  am  not  asleep,  Miss  Harry  1"  said  I,  unclosing  my 
eyes. 

"Xever  mind!"  Uncle  Archie  answered  for  her. 
"We  are  not  talking  secrets." 

In  that  case  I  might  lie  still  and  listen,  unreproved 
by  conscience.  There  was  a  hearty,  whole-souled  liking 
between  the  pair.  To  this,  her  prince  among  true  men, 
Harry  Macon  always  showed  the  best  that  was  in  her. 
He  saw  the  full  current  of  genuine  womanliness  under 
the  froth  and  glitter  which  was  all  most  people  knew 
for  the  saucy  beauty.  Where  he  could  not  excuse,  he 
ignored ;  where  he  could  not  justify,  he  shielded.  They 
talked  frankly,  but  never  sentimentally.  In  such  petty 
scrapes  as  she  would  not  confide  to  her  father  through 
fear  of  troubling  him,  or  to  her  brothers,  lest  they 
should  rebuke  her  more  sharply  than  her  temper  would 
brook — he  was  her  resort,  the  kindest,  safest  counsellor 
that  ever  folly  found  in  uprightness.  She  had  two  or 
three  such  confidences  for  him  that  day,  neither  of 
them  minding  me  (nobody  ever  did  mind  me  much),  and 
I  recollect  how  gentle  was  his  plainness  of  speech,  how 
judicious  his  advice.  One  of  the  topics  discussed  was 
the  useless  adoration  of  Ronald  Craig,  the  empty- 
headed,  full-hearted  master  of  Buccleuch,  one  of  the 
noblest  estates  on  James  River.  As  Harry  averred, 
"he  tormented  the  life  out  of  her,  offering  himself  at 
the  full  of  every  moon  with  regularity  that  inclined  her 
to  believe  him  a  lunatic." 

"  I  told  him  so  one  day,"  she  added. 

"I  am  sorry  to  hear  it,"  returned  Uncle  Archie,  »&• 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          198 

riously.  "You  would  not  have  done  it  if  you  had 
known  that  his  mother  was  once  insane,  although  she 
recovered  her  reason  some  years  before  her  death. 
Don't  trifle  with  true  love,  Miss  Harry.  It  deserves 
respect,  however  you  may  despise  the  creature  that  be- 
stows it.  I  know  you  well  enough  to  believe  that  you 
would  not  strike  a  muddy  hound  that  crawled  up  to 
lick  your  foot.  You  find  fault,  and  maybe  very  reason- 
ably, with  the  softness  of  Craig's  brain.  You  won't 
mend  that  by  hardening  his  heart.  You  may  ruin  him 
for  time  and  for  eternity.  There  is  only  one  really  safe 
path  in  life.  That  is  the  straight  one.  Don't  laugh  at 
or  tease  or  play  with  him.  The  best  and  tenderest- 
hearted  of  women  don't  half  understand  how  they 
can  hurt  us.  If  a  man  puts  heart  and  happiness  in 
your  hands,  and  you  cannot  accept  the  gift,  try  to  re- 
member that  it  is  the  very  best  thing  he  has  to  offer, 
and  give  it  back  to  him  at  once,  with  as  few  words  as 
possible.  Help  him  to  bury  it  out  of  sight.  People  of 
right  feeling  don't  joke  while  open  graves  are  being 
filled  in." 

"  Eonald  Craig  told  me,  last  week,  that  he  believed  I 
would  enjoy  cracking  hickory-nuts  on  his  tombstone," 
said  Harry,  peeping  from  under  her  eyelashes  in  a  look 
made  up  of  roguishness  and  remorse.  "  And — it  seems 
horrid  when  I  think  of  it  now — but  I  couldn't  help  say- 
ing that  if  it  had  a  nice  flat  top  and  was  near  the 
hickory-nut  tree,  I  shouldn't  hesitate  to  make  him  use- 
ful for  once." 

I  giggled,  and  Uncle  Archie  did  not  attempt  to  sup- 
press his  smile. 

"  I  wonder,  sometimes,  if  your  turn  will  ever  come," 
he  said.  "When  it  does,  may  I  be  there  to  see!  I 
warn  you  that  I  shall  not  spare  you." 

"  I  shall  disarm  you  by  telling  you,  first  of  all,  what 


194  JUDITH: 

has  befallen  me,  and  engaging  you  to  break  the  news  to 
Papa.  Rod  says  the  double-barreled  gun  on  the  hooks 
near  the  front  door  is  kept  loaded  with  buckshot  to 
shoot  the  man  to  whom  I  shall  say  '  Yes. '  The  dear 
old  father  turns  a  fine  olive-green  whenever  the  harrow- 
ing possibility  of  my  marriage  is  referred  to.  An  elope- 
ment will  be  the  only  hope  of  life  for  the  unhappy 
suitor-elect." 

"You  may  depend  upon  me  to  the  extent  of  what 
poor  influence  I  possess.  Provided — always — you  con- 
vince me  that  you  are  in  earnest,  that  your  happiness 
depends  on  my  success." 

She  put  out  her  hand. 

"  It  is  a  promise  !    Shake  hands  on  it  I" 

He  hesitated — the  raised  eyebrows  surprised  and  in- 
terrogative. 

"  Is  the  test  so  near  ?  I  will  not  take  a  step  in  the 
dark,  you  know." 

"  I  am  as  fancy-free  as  Shakspeare's  '  fair  vestal,  en- 
throned by  the  West. '  But  in  time  of  peace  prepare 
for  war.  I  may  meet  my  fate  in  Richmond.  Stranger 
things  have  happened." 

A  fraternal  hand-clasp  sealed  the  compact.  To  be 
recalled  how  soon,  how  often,  and  how  sadly  ! 

We  stopped  for  dinner  and  to  feed  and  rest  the  horses 
at  a  house  of  entertainment.  There  was  a  fine  but 
strong  distinction  between  the  managers  of  such  and 
the  people  who  "  kept  tavern."  Our  wayside  hostelry, 
except  in  its  location,  within  thirty  feet  of  the  public 
road,  and  in  the  spaciousness  of  the  stable-yard,  also 
giving  upon  the  thoroughfare,  was,  in  exterior,  undis- 
tinguishable  from  the  private  residence  of  a  planter  in 
good  circumstances.  The  house  was  white,  with  green 
blinds ;  in  summer  a  dense  curtain  of  vines  shaded  the 
long  front  porch,  and  the  yard  was  gay  with  flowers. 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          195 

The  master  was  smoking  a  pipe  on  the  porch,  basking 
in  the  genial  sun-warmth,  while  he  talked  politics  with 
two  guests  who  had  preceded  us.  He  advanced  to  the 
gate  with  hospitable  readiness  as  we  drew  up  before  it, 
saluted  Uncle  Archie  by  name ;  was  presented  by  him 
to  Miss  Harry  and  myself;  "reckoned,"  in  response  to 
the  question  whether  we  could  get  dinner  there,  "there 
was  no  manner  of  doubt  about  that,"  and  offered  his 
arm  to  Miss  Macon  to  conduct  her  to  the  house.  His 
wife,  comely  and  lady-like,  met  us  at  the  door  and 
showed  Miss  Harry  and  myself  to  "the  chamber," 
where  she  had  been  sitting  by  a  lively  fire,  with  win- 
dows and  doors  open.  I  was  made  to  lie  on  the  plump, 
white  bed  until  dinner  was  ready  in  the  adjoining 
dining-room.  An  excellent  meal  it  was,  including  the 
conventional  boiled  ham  flanked  by  cabbage,  before  the 
hostess,  and  the  mountainous  side-dish  of  fried  chicken, 
brown,  tender,  juicy  and  savory  as  fried  chicken  never 
is  outside  of  Virginia.  Spriglets  of  green  parsley  curled 
between  the  toothsome  joints,  breasts  and  giblets  ;  crisp 
slivers  of  fried  bacon  garnished  the  base  of  the  pile ; 
cream-gravy  was  sent  around  with  each  plate,  that  those 
who  liked  the  accompaniment  might  help  themselves. 
Mince-pie  and  sweet-potato  pudding — another  Virginia 
delicacy — pound  cake  and  delicate  "sweetmeats,"  i.  e., 
preserved  watermelon-rind,  carved  curiously  and  elabo- 
rately, brittle  and  like  unto  emerald  in  clarity  of  green ; 
milk,  rich  with  cream,  coffee  and  tea  formed  the  second 
course.  Cider  was  served  with  the  meats.  For  this 
there  was  no  extra  charge.  The  proprietor  of  the 
house  of  entertainment  sold  no  liquors,  nor  could  any 
except  his  personal  friends  obtain  so  much  as  a  glass  of 
spirits  or  wine  from  his  well-stocked  cellar.  A  gentle- 
man's wines — he  was  ranked  as  a  gentleman  by  himself 


196  JUDITH: 

and  others— were  as  much  his  personal  property  as  his 
watch  and  waistcoat. 

"I  do  not  keep  a  tavern,  sir  !"  was  the  haughty  re- 
sponse to  applications  from  the  uninformed  traveler  for 
toddy,  mint-julep  or  milk-punch. 

If  he  had  been  a  tavern-keeper  a  swinging  sign  would 
have  indicated  that  he  held  a  license,  took  orders  and 
charged  accordingly.  As  a  rule,  the  guests  fed  and 
lodged  by  him  were  quiet  gentlefolk,  who  paid  his  mod- 
erate bills  without  a  tinge  of  condescension  or  patronage, 
or  feeling  that  he  lost  caste  by  receiving  a  quid  pro  quo. 
If  there  were  obligation  on  either  side  it  was  on  theirs 
for  cordial  hospitality,  for  which  money  was  an  inade- 
quate acknowledgment. 

Darkness  fell  before  we  came  in  sight  of  Richmond. 
The  swinging  of  the  carriage  on  its  easy  springs ; 
fatigue  and  excitement ;  the  comparative  silence  of  my 
companions  as  twilight  induced  revery ;  the  closing 
glooms  that  obscured  wayside  fences,  and  blotted,  as 
with  a  sepia  wash,  hill  and  forest  and  plain — made  me 
first  dull  then  sleepy.  I  shut  my  eyes,  turned  my  face 
to  the  cushioned  back  of  my  seat,  and,  after  listening 
for  a  few  minutes  to  the  rumble  of  the  wheels,  the  creak 
and  jingle  of  the  harness,  the  thud  of  hoofs  on  the 
sandy  turnpike,  varied  by  rings  against  infrequent 
stones,  I  lost  myself  entirely  in  a  dreamless  blank  of 
slumber. 

I  was  aroused  by  a  far-off  hum  like  the  swarming  of 
bees,  that  grew  louder  and  nearer  when  I  made  out 
who  I  was,  but  not  where.  The  glare  of  light  upon  my 
unsealed  eyes  drew  from  me  an  ejaculation  of  pain. 

A  soft,  warm  hand  covered  them  instantly  ;  a  gentle 
arm  was  about  me  ;  lips  met  mine  in  two,  three  kisses ; 
a  voice  cooed  in  my  ear : 

"  Sweetbrier !  do  you  know  where  you  are  ?" 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         197 

"  In  heaven  ?" 

The  dreaming  brain  actually  sent  the  question  to  the 
tongue  that  was  as  yet  too  languid  to  articulate  it.  In 
another  second  I  whispered,  "  I  know  you  /" 

She  let  me  see  her  then.  Her  face  that  was  lovelier 
than  ever,  was  still  the  nearest  to  mine.  She  knelt  by 
the  sofa  on  which  Uncle  Archie  had  laid  me  after  bring- 
ing me  in  his  arms  from  the  carriage,  swathed  in  shawls 
like  a  mummy,  and  almost  as  dead  asleep.  Her  blue 
eyes  were  joyous  and  tender ;  her  smile  was  as  much 
for  me  as  for  the  lover  who,  I  next  perceived,  stood  by 
her,  looking  down  at  us  both. 

We  were  in  a  room  that  was  very  lofty  and  grand  in 
my  sight.  An  astral  lamp  was  on  the  centre-table. 
Crimson  damask  curtains,  and  a  repetition  of  the  same 
warm  tone  in  carpets  and  furniture  ;  the  gleam  of  pic- 
ture-frames, and  candelabra  hung  with  tinkling  prisms 
— most  of  all,  a  pier-glass  that  reflected  the  group  about 
the  sofa,  intensifying  the  radiance  of  fire  and  lamp,  and 
doubling  the  apparent  length  of  the  apartment — made 
to  my  rustic  appreciation  a  scene  of  palatial  splendor. 

A  prettyish  woman  of  perhaps  thirty-five  pressed 
now  to  Miss  Virginia's  side. 

"You  mustn't  let  them  plague  you,  honey!"  she 
said,  as  I  was  not  used  to  hear  people  speak,  with  a 
plaintive  downward  inflection  engrafted  on  a  slight 
natural  lisp.  I  always  had  a  confusing  notion,  in  lis- 
tening to  her,  that  her  tongue  must  curl  over  at  the  tip 
as  she  talked. 

"  I  am  certain,  Virginia,  that  she  wants  to  go  right 
straight  off  to  bed.  It 's  right  down  mean  to  wake  her 
up!" 

"She  shall  do  just  as  she  likes,  mother,"  said  the 
step-daughter  dutifully. 

She  never  disputed  a  point  with  the  wife,  who  was 


198  JUDITH: 

her  husband's  junior  by  twenty-five  years.  He  was 
presented  to  me  now — short,  good-humored,  portly, 
and  a  disappointment  to  one  who  had  pictured  Captain 
Macon's  ancient  comrade  as  like  that  stately  warrior  in 
person  and  manner.  Two  boys  of  fifteen  and  ten,  the 
children  of  the  second  marriage,  completed  the  family 
group. 

Uncle  Archie  declined  to  sit  dovm,  although  hard- 
pressed  to  become  the  guest  of  the  household  while  he 
stayed  in  town.  He  always  put  up  at  "  The  Colum- 
bian," the  popular  head-quarter?  of  country  gentlemen 
who  liked  substantial  fare  and  liberty  of  action.  With 
stubborn  fidelity  to  the  traditions  of  their  fathers  that 
was  worthy  of  their  English  ancestry,  the  planters  and 
yeomen  of  Virginia  sustained  the  old-fashioned  inn  in 
the  crooked  by-street  leading  to  the  river  long  after  the 
tide  of  general  travel  set  in  the  direction  of  handsome 
hotels  with  modern  improvements  established  in  fash- 
ionable quarters.  The  parade  of  drilled  waiters  and 
long-drawn-out  state  of  successive  courses  was  intoler- 
able to  men  who  "had  something  else  to  do  besides 
spending  hours  a  day  at  the  table."  They  contended 
that  the  cookery  at  "  The  Eagle  "  was  infinitely  inferior 
to  that  at  "  The  Columbian  " — in  brief,  that  when  they 
came  to  town  unencumbered  by  wives  and  daughters, 
they  meant  to  be  comfortable  in  the  ugly  tavern  de- 
spised by  the  rising  generation. 

Major  Dabney  and  his  wife  were  distressed  at  the 
recusancy  of  Miss  Harry's  escort,  and  proclaimed  their 
chagrin  vehemently.  Miss  Virginia  said,  quietly  rais- 
ing her  shining  eyes  to  his : 

"Mr.  Bradley  will  be  disappointed.  We  have  in- 
vited him  to  take  tea  and  spend  the  evening  with  you." 

"  Evening  "  in  the  country  meant  after  dinner,  at 
whatever  hour  that  repast  was  taken.  After  sunset 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          199 

was  "night."  The  afternoon  was  an  unknown  quan- 
tity in  our  diurnal  computation.  The  mere  use  of  the 
word  stamped  one  as  town-bred,  or  as  an  imitator  of 
cockney  phrases.  I  had  time  to  wonder  why  Mr. 
Bradley  had  not  yet  appeared  if  the  invitation  was  for 
the  evening,  before  Uncle  Archie  could  be  heard  above 
the  renewed  clamor  of  remonstrance : 

"  If  you  will  allow  me  to  return  after  I  have  been 
down  town  to  put  up  my  horse  and  secure  my  room,  I 
will  with  pleasure  accept  your  invitation  to  supper." 

He  was  detained  a  few  minutes  longer  by  Mr.  Brad- 
ley's  arrival.  Already  the  air  of  city  life  had  taken 
effect  upon  his  outer  man.  The  cut  of  his  clothes — a 
suit  of  dark-blue  cloth,  faultless  in  fit — of  his  hair,  even 
the  gloves,  one  of  which  he  drew  from  the  right  hand  as 
he  entered,  bore  no  correspondence  to  the  personal  be- 
longings of  the  Summerfield  tutor.  The  healthful  tan 
of  his  complexion  was  superseded  by  a  clear  pallor  that 
enhanced  the  refined  cast  of  his  features.  The  altera- 
tion did  not  extend  to  his  manner.  The  buoyant  step, 
the  happy  smile,  the  cordial  tone  were  the  same  that 
had  won  Aunt  Betsey's  best  graces,  and  converted  into 
a  friend  every  acquaintance  he  had  made  while  with  us. 
I  felt  my  forehead  flush  with  prideful  delight  under  his 
kiss,  saw  Uncle  Archie's  honest  eyes  kindle  as  their 
hands  met  in  a  long  clasp.  Then  my  foolish  flutter  sub- 
sided into  deadest  dullness ;  my  sick  heart  sank  until  I 
fancied  it  must  settle  in  my  heels. 

I  wished  Uncle  Archie  had  taken  off  his  dreadnought 
surtout,  or,  at  least,  removed  the  cloth  leggings,  or 
"wrappers,"  as  they  were  styled,  that  enveloped  his 
legs  like  warlike  greaves.  Horsemen  wore  these  upon 
long  winter  journeys  for  warmth  and  for  protection  from 
the  mud.  They  were  strapped  under  the  boots  like 
gaiters,  buttoned  up  on  the  outside  of  the  legs  and  gar- 


200  JUDITH: 

tered  above  the  knees.  His  hair,  tossed  and  curling 
after  the  day  in  the  saddle,  was  a  shaggy  mane  when 
contrasted  with  his  friend's  orderly  locks.  I  could 
have  cried  with  heartache  to  think  that  Miss  Virginia's 
eyes  rested  upon  the  two,  standing  face  to  face,  ani- 
mated and  engrossed  by  the  pleasure  of  reunion, 
yearned  to  cast  my  arms  about  the  mud-plashed  knees 
and  tell  one  of  the  men  how  ardently  I  loved  him — how 
much  better  for  the  unwilling  admission  to  my  secretest 
soul  that  he  was  the  sufferer  by  the  comparison  I — and 
perhaps  another — had  made. 

It  was  some  poor  relief  when  the  outer  door  clanged 
behind  him.  My  cheeks  cooled  gradually  while  I 
feigned  to  hearken  to  Mrs.  Dabney's  twaddle.  It  re- 
minded me  from  that  evening  of  plum-porridge,  insipid 
mush,  in  which  an  ever-stirring  spoon  brought  continu- 
ally to  the  surface  raisins,  currants,  citron-slips  of 
meaningless  endearment.  I  was  her  "  pretty  baby," 
her  "  precious  girl,"  her  "sweetest  Judith,"  and  her 
"heart's  treasure,"  before  she  finished  the  harangue 
upon  the  propriety  of  a  measure  nobody  thought  of 
gainsaying,  to  wit :  that  the  travelers  should  be  taken 
up  stairs  to  wash  and  get  ready  for  supper. 

"  Which  shan't  be  brought  in  till  that  dear  Mr.  Read 
comes  back,  if  he  don't  make  his  appearance  until  mid- 
night," she  assured  us.  "  So,  my  dearest  Miss  Harry — 
I  just  can't  say  'Miss  Macon,'  when  I've  heard  so 
much  of  you — the  Major  and  our  darling  Virginia  are 
forever  praising  you  up,  dear,  and  none  too  much — not 
a  bit !  I  '11  say  that  to  your  face.  You  needn't  hurry 
down  stairs.  Take  plenty  of  time,  honey.  I  dare  say 
our  dear  Mr.  Bradley  will  be  impatient  to  see  you 
again,  but,  if  the  truth  were  known,  't  isn't  the  first 
time  he  has  had  to  dance  attendance  upon  a  beauty's 
pleasure." 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         201 

.  When  Uncle  Archie  returned  we  were  reassembled 
down  stairs,  and  the  great  folding-doors  between  the 
two  rooms  being  opened,  we  had  a  view  of  a  table  in  the 
back  parlor  so  profusely  set  out  with  crystal,  china  and 
silver  that  my  shaken  nerves  danced  again.  I  sat  at 
the  Major's  right  hand,  as  far  away  as  I  could  be  re- 
moved from  the  voluble  hostess.  Subsequently  I  sus- 
pected daughterly  artifice  in  this.  Time  had  inured 
Miss  Virginia  to  the  incessant  bubble  and  spatter  of  the 
porridge-pot,  but  she  shielded  her  friends  from  the  in- 
fliction whenever  she  could  without  wounding  the  poor 
lady.  The  Major  did  not  trouble  me  with  questions, 
and  kept  a  hospitable  eye  on  my  plate.  Miss  Virginia 
was  next  to  me  on  the  other  side,  Mr.  Bradley  sat  by 
her,  Uncle  Archie  was  opposite  to  me,  and  Miss  Harry 
his  nearest  neighbor.  She  and  the  ci-devant  tutor  car- 
ried most  of  the  light  weight  of  the  conversation.  They 
drew  out  one  another  admirably  at  all  times,  and  to- 
night the  exchange  of  challenge  and  repartee  were  like 
the  flash  and  catch  of  a  glittering  ball  in  spirited  play. 
The  Major  dropped  knife  and  fork  several  times  in  a 
convulsion  of  merriment ;  the  boys  were  in  a  perpetual 
titter,  and  Mrs.  Dabney  exhausted  her  expletives  in 
description  of  her  enchantment  at  seeing  the  dear 
young  people  so  happy. 

"  How  I  do  like  to  see  young  folks  enjoy  themselves !" 
she  twittered  in  pauses  and  out  of  pauses.  "  If  there 's 
one  thing  that  makes  me  happier  than  another  it  is  to 
see  young  folks  having  a  royally-good  time.  When 
they  are  in  spirits  they  are  in  such  spirits,  and  our 
young  folks — indeed,  to  tell  the  truth,  most  of  the  young 
folks  that  visit  here,  and,  for  the  matter  of  that,  young 
folks  all  over  the  world,  so  far  as  I  know — those  that  are 
in  good  health  I  mean,  of  course,  for  without  health,  my 
dear  Mr.  Read,  what  is  life  ? — certainly  are,  generally 


202  JUDITH: 

in  excellent  spirits.  And,  as  I  was  saying  to  precious 
Virginia  only  to-day,  I  do  hope  and  pray  that  our  sweet 
Miss  Harry  will  have  a  pleasant  visit,  and  you  must 
make  yourself  perfectly  at  home  right  off,  my  love — all 
our  darling  daughter's  friends  are  our  friends  ;  and  I  'm 
sure  when  that  lovely  Maria  Read  was  here  in  Decem- 
ber we  certainly  treated  her  exactly  as  if  she  had  been 
one  of  us,  exactly — and  a  more  interesting  girl  I  never 
met  in  all  my  life ;  never,  if  I  do  say  it  to  your  face, 
Mr.  Bead,  if  she  is  your  own  born  sister ;  but  if  so,  why 
not  praise  her  ? — I  could  never  see  why  not — and  if  the 
truth  were  known,  I  dare  say  plenty  of  young  men 
would  agree  with  me ;  don't  you  think  so,  Mr.  Bradley?" 

Harry  Macon  had  just  tossed  a  saucy  equivoque  at 
him.  His  lips  were  apart  in  the  suspended  retort,  as 
he  bowed  his  apology  to  the  head  of  the  table. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mrs.  Dabney  !  I  did  not  quite 
catch  what  you  were  saying  I" 

"Who  ever  did  ? 

Her  good  nature  was  invincible.  "Very  excusable, 
I  am  sure.  I  don't  mind  people's  talking  while  I  'm 
running  on.  I  rather  like  it.  It  makes  things  more 
sociable  all  around  ;  and  what  are  we  put  into  society  for 
but  to  be  sociable  ?  and  I  was  never  one  to  stand  upon 
my  dignity,  nor  my  p's  and  q's,  either  ;  and  my  sisters 
tell  me  I  'm  quite  too  youthful  in  my  feelings  for  a 
woman  of  my  age  and  a  man  of  the  Major's,  though  for 
the  matter  of  that,  I  never  gave  a  thought  to  his  being 
old  enough,  you  may  say,  to  have  been  my  father.  I 
was  just  praising  that  pretty,  sweet,  delightful  Maria 
Kead.  I  fairly  fell  in  love  with  her,  and  I  was  not  the 
only  one,  if  the  truth  were  told.  I  wonder  how  many 
hearts  she  has  broken  in  her  day  ?" 

"I  think  she  would  be  very  sorry  to  break  any,  ma- 
dam. She  is  very  humane." 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          208 

Mr.  Bradley 's  answer  was  given  in  perfect  compo- 
sure ;  his  countenance  baffled  even  such  scrutiny  as  I 
fancied  I  saw  in  Harry  Macon's  glance. 

Uncle  Archie  looked  up  from  his  plate  directly  at  the 
host.  "It  would  seem  now,  Major  Dabney,  as  if  the 
action  of  the  Legislature  may,  after  all,  go  against  the 
bill  we  were  discussing  when  you  were  at  Summerfield 
last  month." 

The  diversion  was  effectual.  The  Major  launched 
vigorously  into  asseveration  that  the  present  legislators 
were  in  covenant  with  the  enemies  of  national  and  state 
peace  and  prosperity;  into  prophecies  "that  the  time 
was  near  at  hand  when  Virginia  would  expiate  the  blun- 
ders of  her  political  leaders  in  blood  and  tears,  sir ;  that 
for  his  part  he  was  tempted  to  question  whether  the  ex- 
periment of  a  republic  were  not  a  failure,  and  to  believe 
that  the  hope  of  the  country  lay  in  absolute  monarchy — 
a  despotism,  sir  ;  a  strong  government,  sir  !  Confound 
the  rascals  who  are  steering  us  on  to  ruin,  sir  ;  driving 
the  Ship  of  State  on  to  the  breakers  of  political  wreck, 
in  the  interest  of  sugar  planters  and  far-south  cotton 
growers  who  are  not  worth  a  sou-marquee  per  hundred, 
bodies  and  souls — not  a  Continental  blank,  sir !" 

"Major,  my  blessed  love!"  cried  Mrs.  Dabney — "it 
makes  my  blood  run  cold  to  hear  how  near  you  come  to 
swear-words  in  the  presence  of  ladies  and  children.  I 
wish  you  would  be  careful,  and  you  a  vestryman — al- 
though if  the  truth  were  told,  not  a  communicant, 
which  would  make  your  language  a  little  worse ;  and 
everybody,  even  that  blessed  innocent  sitting  by  you, 
must  know  that  '  Continental  blank'  is  only  a  whipping- 
the-old-boy-round-the-stump  way  of  using  a  term  no 
gentleman  would  utter  in  a  lady's  hearing.  It  really 
frightens  me,  my  dear  Mr.  Head,  and  as  our  dear  Mr. 
Bradley  must  have  observed  before  this,  when  the  Major 


204  JUDITH: 

begins  to  talk  politics,  he  gets  so  furious,  when  on  most 
subjects  he  has  the  temper  of  a  lamb  and  wouldn't  hurt 
the  feelings  of  a  fly  ;  and,  if  the  truth  is  told,  all  his  va- 
poring is  wasted,  for  everybody  knows  that  his  bark  is 
certainly  worse  than  his  bite." 

How,  in  this  Liberty  Hall,  reared  by  this  hearty, 
easy-going,  over-indulgent  couple,  Virginia  Dabney  ac- 
quired her  perfection  of  breeding  and  refined  manner, 
was  a  puzzle  to  older  students  of  human  nature  than 
the  thin-faced  child  who  tired  herself  out  in  considering 
it  that  night.  It  was  decided  by  tender-hearted  step- 
mother and  daughter  that  it  would  be  unkind  to  send 
me  off  to  bed  early  on  this  my  first  evening  in  a  strange 
house.  I  was  laid  among  pillows  in  a  shaded  corner  of 
a  sofa,  covered  with  a  shawl  and  left  to  rest  or  look  on 
as  I  liked. 

"  It  will  not  be  rude  to  go  to  sleep,"  added  my  young 
guardian,  disposing  the  mufflings  about  my  shoulders 
with  a  loving  squeeze  and  pat. 

The  prolonged  siesta  of  the  afternoon  saved  me  from 
this  breach  of  politeness.  I  was  wide  awake  in  more 
than  one  sense  of  the  term.  That  evening  was  what  I 
named  to  myself  "one  of  my  nicest  make-believe 
times."  I  had  never  seen  a  coal-fire  until  the  generous 
pile  in  the  brass-mounted  grate  introduced  me  to  the 
mimic  volcanoes  I  never  wearied  of  watching,  from  the 
moment  the  tiny  bubble  on  the  bituminous  lump  began 
to  swell  into  a  hillock  until  the  blazing  puff  tore  open 
the  crater,  that  speedily  burned  into  extinction  and 
black  emptiness.  I  liked  the  smell  from  the  first.  To 
this  hour  it  is  as  dear  to  me  for  the  sake  of  those  bygone 
days  and  Kichmond  memories — as  infinitely  and  touch- 
ingly  suggestive — as  the  odor  of  burning  peat  to  the 
exiled  Scot,  who  reckons  "  mountain  dew"  flavorless 
without  the  smoky  tincture  contracted  in  the  distillation. 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          205 

Mrs.  Dabney  fussily,  but  with  amiable  intentions, 
swept  husband  and  sons  off  to  her  own  sitting-room 
when  we  left  the  table. 

"  Don't  be  a  goose,  Major,  darling !"  she  said,  when  he 
"reckoned  the  young  gentlemen  wouldn't  mind  having 
a  cigar  apiece  while  he  smoked  his  pipe,  and  the  whole 
party  might  as  well  adjourn  to  the  sitting-room. "  "  You 
wouldn't  have  touched  a  pipe  in  Pa's  parlor  while  you 
were  courting  me.  Xot  that  I  mean,  of  course,  that 
the  cases  are  at  all  alike  " — hurriedly,  and  in  genuine 
concern,  as  her  lord  burst  out  laughing — "but  I  would 
say,  everybody  knows  young  folks  have  notions  about 
smoking  that  they  get  over  when  they  are  an  old  mar- 
ried woman  like  me,  and  things  are  different  now  from 
what  they  were  in  our  daj%  and  get  differenter  every 
year,  seems  to  me,  and  curtains  do  hold  stale  tobacco- 
smoke  so,  and  it 's  natural  young  girls  shouldn't  quite 
like  it,  and  gentlemen's  coats  and  hair  and  whiskers 
too,  for  the  matter  of  that,  and  indeed,  if  the  truth 
were  told — Virginia,  my  angel !  tell  your  friends  what 
I  meant  to  say.  Virginia  always  understands  me, 
even  when  I  'm  not  just  certain  myself  what  I  started 
to  tell." 

"Yes,  mother,  we  all  know  what  you  mean.  You 
must  not  mind  father's  teasing,"  returned  the  daughter, 
consolingly. 

To  show  that  she  was  not  disconcerted  by  the  innu- 
endo conveyed  in  her  father's  laugh,  she  crossed  the 
room  to  Uncle  Archie  and  began  talking  to  him  about 
Summerfleld  people  and  news.  Her  seat  was  a  stuffed 
ottoman,  and  she  had  to  lift  her  face  to  see  him  fairly. 
The  mellowed  light  from  the  astral  lamp  fell  on  her 
profile,  chastened  her  bloom  and  smiling  eyes.  She 
questioned  in  a  subdued  key,  and  he  answered  in  th« 
same. 


206  JUDITH: 

Miss  Harry,  flitting  aimlessly  about  the  room,  picked 
up  a  flute  from  the  piano. 

"  Why,  this  is  yours  1"  she  said  in  her  clear,  full 
tones  to  Mr.  Bradley. 

The  abruptness  of  the  appeal,  accustomed  as  he 
should  have  been  to  her  ways,  took  him  by  surprise. 
He  changed  color  perceptibly — and  he  seldom  blushed. 

"  Is  it  ?"  he  began,  extending  his  hand  for  the  instru- 
ment. 

Miss  Virginia  glanced  over  her  shoulder  without  other 
change  of  posture,  spoke  simply  and  naturally. 

"  Hadn't  you  missed  it,  Mr.  Bradley  ?  You  left  it 
on  the  piano  the  night  we  tried  those  new  songs.  I 
found  it  after  you  went  away.  I  am  glad  it  happens  to 
be  here,  for  you  and  he,  Harry,  will  give  us  some  music 
worth  having. 

"  So  you  and  Maria  are  reading  '  Ivanhoe  '  together, 
Mr.  Head !  It  is  my  favorite  among  all  of  Scott's 
novels." 

The  chat  relapsed  into  a  confidential  murmur.  Harry 
and  Mr.  Bradley  looked  over  the  music  and  made  selec- 
tions for  future  practicing,  taking — considerately,  as  I 
thought — a  long  time  to  suit  themselves. 

Nestled  in  my  shadowed  corner,  my  heart  light  as  a 
feather,  my  mind  a  halcyon  sea  gleaming  with  dyes 
whose  glories  never  outlive  youth  and  inexperience — I 
watched  and  dreamed. 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          207 


CHAPTER  XHI. 

UNCLE  ARCHIE  passed  four  days  in  town,  sleeping, 
breakfasting  and  dining  at  the  "  Columbian,"  devoting 
his  forenoons  to  business,  giving  afternoons  and  even- 
ings to  us.  On  Sunday  morning  we  went  to  the  First 
Presbyterian  Church.  The  Dabneys  were  Episcopa- 
lians. Miss  Virginia  had  proposed  that  we  should 
attend  the  Presbyterian  place  of  worship  out  of  compli- 
ment to  her  guests.  She  and  Uncle  Archie,  Miss  Harry, 
Mr.  Bradley  and  myself  formed  the  party.  We  drove 
down  the  hill  in  the  family  carriage,  and  walked  home 
at  noon,  strolling  slowly  up  the  irregular  ascent  in  the 
sunshine  that  burnished  the  pineapple  on  the  spire  of 
the  old  church  in  the  valley  beneath  us  into  a  pyramidal 
flame  against  a  sky  of  exquisite  clearness  and  color. 
Miss  Virginia  held  rny  hand  in  her  right,  her  left  rest- 
ing on  her  attendant's  arm,  as  was  the  custom  in  polite 
society.  Once  Uncle  Archie  said  gently  to  her : 

"  I  do  not  feel  your  weight.  Your  hand  might  be  a 
little  gray  feather  on  my  sleeve.  Do  you  never  accept 
more  assistance  from  an  escort  ?  Are  you  so  indepen- 
dent ?" 

"  You  have  named  the  very  trait  in  which  I  am  most 
deficient.  I  am  a  sad  coward,  morally  and  physically." 

"Ah!  that  you  cannot  make  me  believe.  I  have 
known  you  too  long  and  too  well." 

I  worked  my  fingers  in  the  design  of  slipping  them 
out  of  her  clasp,  and  falling  back  to  walk  with  Miss 
Harry,  whose  relations  with  Mr.  Bradley  were,  I  was 
sure,  many  removes  from  tender.  The  gray  glove 
tightened  upon  the  restless  digits  in  determination  I 


208  JUDITH: 

could  not  resist.  Flattered,  in  spite  of  my  disappoint- 
ment on  Uncle  Archie's  account,  I  wondered  if  he 
might  not  come  to  consider  her  inconveniently  fond  of 
me.  With  very  nebulous  notions  of  the  etiquette  of 
wooing  and  being  won,  I  conceived  artless  stratagems 
of  leaving  the  lovers  to  themselves  evolved  from  the 
germinal  principle  that  they  had  much  to  say  they 
would  not  like  others  to  hear.  I  mourned  secretly  at 
the  paucity  of  opportunities  that  fell  to  them  on  this, 
the  last  day  of  Uncle  Archie's  stay  in  Richmond.  Mr. 
Bradley  dined  on  Sundays  with  the  Dabneys,  in  whose 
hospitable  abode  he  was  already  received  as  a  privi- 
leged family  friend.  Miss  Harry  seconded  my  awkward 
maneuvers  ably  by  keeping  him  in  close  attendance 
upon  her,  and  I  took  my  book  and  cricket  to  a  front 
window,  as  far  as  I  could  get  them  and  myself  from 
both  couples.  Uncle  Archie  did  not  fret  or  sulk,  as  a 
more  mercurial  suitor  might  have  done,  at  the  seeming 
impossibility  of  securing  a  private  interview.  His  de- 
meanor was,  to  the  general  eye,  absolutely  the  same, 
whether  he  talked  with  the  mother  or  the  daughter. 
Mr.  Bradley's  eyes  said  more  gallant  things  to  Harry 
Macon  in  ten  minutes  than  the  grave,  kind  ones  bent 
upon  her  friend's  face  would  or  could  express  in  as  many 
days.  Friendly  he  was  always — sometimes  brotherly 
in  continual  thoughtfulness  of  her  comfort  and  remem- 
brance of  her  views  and  wishes.  Loverly  he  was  not 
in  the  sight  of  others  as  loverliness  is  usually  exhibited. 
In  the  afternoon  we  attended  service  at  the  Monu- 
mental Church.  It  is  now  a  quaint,  shabby  little 
octagonal  temple  that,  but  for  the  moiifrnful  interest 
clinging  to  the  tomb  in  the  vestibule,  would  long  ago 
have  made  way  for  other  structures.  At  the  date 
of  this,  my  first  visit  to  it,  it  was  less  than  twenty  years 
old  and  the  fashionable  church  of  the  city.  I  forgot  to 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          209 

watch  and  plan  for  the  lovers  in  the  emotions  awakened 
by  the  place.  The  surpliced  clergyman,  the  stately 
service,  known  to  me  hitherto  only  by  such  maimed 
rites  as  I  had  witnessed  on  the  Episcopal  Sabbath  at 
Old  Singinsville,  where  perhaps  a  dozen  worshippers  at 
most  were  provided  with  prayer-books,  the  roll  and 
peal  of  the  organ — wrought  me  up  to  a  state  of  exalta- 
tion I  naturally  mistook  for  devotion.  I  sat  motionless, 
my  eyes  full  of  tears,  rapt  in  ecstacy  and  dream.  The 
full-voiced  responses  moved  me  to  a  fervor  of  petition 
felt  by  few  others  present.  The  chants  brought  before 
me  visions  of  Solomon's  Temple  and  priestly  proces- 
sions led  by  Asaph,  or,  it  might  be,  by  the  Royal  Mu- 
sician in  person,  making  a  joyful  noise  unto  the  God  of 
Jacob  with  the  timbrel,  the  pleasant  harp  and  the 
psaltery. 

"It  helped  me  to  understand  the  Psalms,"  wrote  I 
priggishly  to  Aunt  Maria  in  the  letter  Uncle  Archie 
was  to  take  with  him  on  the  morrow.  "I  suppose  it  is 
a  horrid  thing  to  say,  but  1  do  wish  my  great-grand- 
father had  not  gone  to  hear  Samuel  Davies  and  turned 
into  a  Presbyterian." 

On  our  way  out  we  paused  to  look  at  the  monument 
in  the  porch,  Major  Dabney  kindly  waiting  for  me  while 
I  read  the  names  lettered  on  the  four  sides,  and  telling 
me  many  particulars  of  the  catastrophe  that  led  to  the 
erection  of  the  church.  He  had  been  himself  present 
at  the  burning  of  the  theatre,  and,  pleased  by  the  eager 
interest  excited  by  his  mention  of  this  fact,  took  me  into 
the  yard  surrounding  the  building  to  describe  the  play- 
house, how  the  fy-e  originated,  and  the  rapid  progress 
of  the  tragedy.  He  showed  me  where  stood  Gilbert 
Hunt,  the  stalwart  negro  blacksmith,  still  living  in 
Richmond,  who  caught  twenty  men  and  women  as  they 
leaped  or  fell  from  the  windows,  and,  as  we  walked  up 


210  JUDITH: 

the  street,  entered  into  a  detailed  narration  of  the 
event,  the  particulars  of  which  were  indelibly  stamped 
on  my  mind. 

He  was  at  the  theatre  on  the  night  of  December  26, 
1811,  with  his  first  wife,  Miss  Virginia's  mother. 

"We  were  with  a  party  of  friends  in  the  lower  tier  of 
boxes,"  he  said.  ""When  the  alarm  was  raised  I  said 
to  my  wife,  '  Keep  perfectly  still  and  obey  my  direc- 
tions !'  I  then  jumped  over  the  front  of  the  box  into 
the  pit,  held  up  my  arms  and  told  her  to  come  to  me. 
She  was  light  and  agile,  and  obeyed  without  a  second's 
hesitation.  The  other  ladies  followed,  and  I  hurried 
them  out  before  the  passage  and  stairs  were  choked  by 
the  crowd.  My  friend,  Honorable  Abraham  Venable,  a 
distinguished  citizen,  and  the  president  of  the  Bank  of 
Virginia,  was  in  the  box  next  to  mine.  As  I  leaped 
into  the  pit  I  heard  him  say,  '  Not  a  person  shall  stir 
from  this  box  until  I  give  the  word  !'  He  supposed  that 
the  panic  would  subside  in  season  to  allow  an  orderly 
escape.  Every  one  of  his  party  perished.  My  dear 
young  friend,  Lieutenant  Gibbon — a  noble  fellow ! — tried 
to  carry  out  in  his  arms  poor  Sally  Conyers,  to  whom 
he  was  engaged.  She  fainted  at  the  first  alarm.  Both 
were  lost." 

He  stopped,  steadied  himself  upon  the  right  leg, 
brought  the  heel  of  the  advanced  left  foot  back  with  a 
flourish,  to  fit  into  the  hollow  of  the  right,  and  swept, 
with  hat  in  hand,  a  profound  bow  to  a  lady  just  cross- 
ing the  street  in  front  of  us. 

"  Good  afternoon,  madam  !  I  hope  I  have  the  pleas- 
ure of  seeing  you  quite  well  I  My  dear  " — to  me  when 
she  was  beyond  earshot — "  she  was  there  that  night ! 
You  observe  that  she  limps  slightly  ?  She  fractured 
her  leg  in  jumping  from  a  window.  Mr.  Marshall,  from 
Wythe  County — an  excellent  gentleman — broke  his  neck 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          211 

in  the  leap  from  the  same  window  a  moment  afterward. 
Poor  Kobert  Greenhow  was  thrown  down  the  stairs, 
over  the  heads  of  the  crowd  struggling  to  escape,  hold- 
ing his  little  boy  in  his  arms.  Both  escaped  with  their 
lives,  but  Mrs.  Greenhow  was  among  the  victims.  Do  you 
see  that  house  over  there  ?"  designating  a  frame  dwell- 
ing on  a  parallel  street.  "  Early  next  morning — very 
early,  for  nobody  in  Richmond  slept  that  night,  and  I 
had  been  back  and  forth  to  the  theatre  for  hours — I  was 
passing  that  house  and  saw  on  the  porch  Mrs.  Green, 
the  actress  who  had  played  '  The  Bleeding  Nun '  the 
night  before.  She  was  still  in  the  white  dress,  streaked 
with  red  paint,  in  which  she  had  played  her  part  •  her 
hair  was  streaming  down  her  back,  and  she  was  wring- 
ing her  hands  and  shrieking  out  the  name  of  her  daugh- 
ter— '  pretty  Nancy  Green,'  they  called  her,  poor  child! 
— who  had  been  burned  alive  in  the  theatre.  That  was 
real  tragedy  !  I  pray  Heaven  I  may  never  look  upon 
the  like  again  !  A  cousin  of  my  wife  tied  on  her  cloak 
in  a  hurry  that  evening,  on  being  told  that  her  escort 
was  waiting  for  her,  and  pulled  the  cherry  ribbon- 
strings  into  a  hard  knot.  She  was  fretted,  and  jerked 
at  them  impatiently,  only  to  tie  them  more  tightly.  At 
the  theatre  she  made  another  effort  to  undo  the  knot, 
then  tried  to  break  the  strings.  They  were  new  and 
strong,  and  sewed  on  securely,  and,  in  a  very  bad 
humor,  she  let  them  alone.  When  she  was  dragged 
through  the  crowd  into  the  street,  more  dead  than  alive, 
all  her  clothing  had  been  torn  from  her  in  the  struggle 
excepting  this  cloak,  still  tied  about  her  neck,  and  her 
shoes,  which  were  laced  about  her  ankles." 

"  Theatres  must  be  very  wicked  places  !"  I  ventured, 
shudderingly.  "  I  should  be  afraid  ever  to  go  into  one. 
I  suppose  this  fire  was  sent  as  a  judgment  to  teach 
people  not  to  attend  plays." 


212  JUDITH: 

The  veteran's  eyes  twinkled  shrewdly. 

" Churches  burn  down  sometimes,"  he  said.  "And 
dwelling-houses  oftener  than  churches.  Solomon's 
Temple  was  burned  two  or  three  times,  and  at  last 
the  foundations  were  sowed  with  salt.  I  've  long  since 
given  up  trying  to  interpret  the  judgments  of  Divine 
Providence.  Richmond  will  never  know  a  sadder  week 
than  that  which  followed  on  the  heels  of  our  Christmas 
twenty  years  ago.  My  dear  wife  could  never  see  a  play- 
bill again  without  horror.  I  haven't  the  same  feeling 
exactly,  but  I  am  glad  a  church  was  built  on  the  site  of 
that  theatre." 

We  walked  on  silently  for  a  square  or  two,  the  thump 
of  his  stout  cane  on  the  brick  sidewalk  the  loudest  sound 
m  the  Sabbatical  stillness.  From  the  river  in  which  the 
fair  city  bathes  her  feet  arose  a  ceaseless,  languorous 
murmur — the  wash  of  the  rapids  over  hidden  rocks  and 
past  greening  islets.  The  delicious  weather  of  the  past 
week  had  recalled  blue-birds  and  robins  to  the  spacious 
gardens  that  were  the  pride  of  affluent  citizens,  and  en- 
couraged a  few  impatient  spring  flowers  to  peep  out  of 
the  black  mould  in  sunny  borders.  I  have  known  no 
peacefuller  town-Sabbaths  than  those  of  the  Richmond 
of  by-gone  days.  It  was  more  like  the  leisurely  calm 
of  a  country  village  of  our  time,  which  progress  has  for- 
gotten to  visit  for  a  hundred  years  or  so — such  as  Deer- 
field  and  Old  Hadley — than  the  bustling  liveliness  of  a 
capital  that  now  numbers  five  times  as  many  inhabi- 
tants as  then  made  it  the  commercial  emporium  of  the 
Old  Dominion,  Everybody  knew  everybody  else,  at 
least  by  sight.  Acquaintances  stopped  on  Main  Street 
on  week-days  to  exchange  elaborate  compliments.  On 
Sundays  they  turned  to  saunter  squares  out  of  their 
way  for  the  sake  of  ten  minutes'  neighborly  converse. 

Major  Dabney  shook  hands  with  dozens  of  people  in 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          213 

our  walk  homeward,  and  presented  all  to  "My  young 
friend,  Miss  Judith  Trueheart."  To  some  he  added: 
"Granddaughter  of  Sterling  Read,  of  Summerfield. 
You  knew  her  grandparents."  To  others:  "The 
daughter  of  our  old  friend,  Tom  Trueheart,  of  Bellair. 
You  must  remember  Tom  ?" 

Nearly  all  thus  addressed  did  know  my  grandparents, 
or  were  happy  to  meet  Tom  Trueheart's  daughter.  Two 
desired  to  be  remembered  to  my  mother,  and  four  re- 
marked on  my  resemblance  to  my  Huguenot  ancestors. 
One  rubicund  citizen  was  accosted  in  still  different 
fashion. 

"  Gwathmey !  I  want  you  to  take  a  particularly  good 
look  at  this  young  lady.  You  were  dying  with  love  for 
her  mother  once.  It  is  a  pity  you  are  getting  too  bald 
and  fat  to  wait  for  her  daughter !" 

The  Major  rolled  through  his  world  like  a  social  solar 
orb,  infusing  geniality  and  good  cheer  into  all  absorbent 
natures.  He  had  inherited  a  handsome  patrimony,  and 
each  of  his  wives  had  brought  him  a  comfortable  for- 
tune. Like  four-fifths  of  contemporary  gentlemen,  he 
had  studied  law,  but  had  given  up  the  pretense  of  prac- 
tice before  he  was  forty.  He  was  a  "  good  liver,"  with- 
out the  slightest  tendency  to  dissipation,  and  found 
sufficient  occupation  for  mind  and  body  in  reading  Eng- 
lish and  American  journals,  looking  after  the  invest- 
ments of  his  capital,  in  the  society  of  a  chosen  body  of 
friends  of  his  own  stamp,  and  in  making  wife  and  chil- 
dren happy.  Mrs.  Boffin's  "  Lor' !  let's  be  comfort- 
able !"  should  have  been  lettered  on  the  coat-of-arms 
that  hung  over  the  mantel  in  the  Major's  "study." 
The  fine  irony  of  the  name  was  appreciated  by  the 
visitor  at  the  first  glance  at  the  den  in  the  rear  of  the 
family  sitting-room.  It  was  a  study  that  reeked  with 
tobacco-smoke,  was  adorned  with  prints  of  famous 


214  JUDITH: 

race-horses  and  hounds,  and  boasted  of  no  literature 
beyond  bulky  files  of  newspapers  piled  on  tables  and  in 
corners,  and  "Roderick  Random,"  "Tom  Jones," 
"  Peregrine  Pickle  "  and  "  Tristram  Shandy,"  put  up 
on  a  very  high  shelf  over  the  door  to  be  "out  of  the 
children's  way." 

In  political  faith  the  Major  was  ardent  and  pugna- 
cious, granted  (for  the  sake  of  argument)  that  "  Tom  " 
Ritchie,  the  Nestor  of  the  Enquirer,  "  was  a  gentleman, 
sir — no  question  of  it,  if  a  Democrat  can  be  a  gentle- 
man— of  which,  the  Lord  forgive  me !  I  have  serious 
doubts  sometimes,  sir,  'pon  my  word  I  have  ;  but  the 
Wood  of  souls  will  be  found  in  his  skirts,  as  upon  other 
leaders  of  that  most  dangerous  and  A-d-didbolical  party, 
sir  !"  and  served  his  "conscience  and  country  on  election 
day  by  riding  hard  between  sunrise  and  sundown  to 
plump  his  vote  for  the  Whig  candidates  at  the  polls  of 
four  separate  counties,  in  which  he  held  real  estate  for 
that  purpose  and  that  alone.  Ten  men  voted  upon  as 
many  slices  of  his  plantation  in  Hanover,  and  he  was  a 
freeholder  in  Chesterfield,  Goochland  and  Powhatan. 
In  the  last-named  county  the  doughty  partisan  had 
more  than  once  or  twice  saved  the  day  for  the  Whigs  by 
driving  in  to  the  Court  House,  less  than  an  hour  before 
sundown,  at  the  head  of  a  cortege  of  twenty  or  thirty 
other  patriots  from  the  city,  all  land-owners  in  the  dis- 
puted district,  and  therefore  entitled  to  cast  ballots  for 
the  local  candidate.  Voting  was  lively  work  under  the 
old  regime  of  "  free,  white,  twenty-one,  and  a  land- 
holder to  the  amount  of  at  least  twenty-five  dollars." 

For  religion  the  Major  entertained  a  profound  re- 
spect, for  the  Church  the  affectionate  preference  of  a 
son  baptized  but  never  confirmed  in  her  communion. 
He  pitied  honest  Dissenters,  meting  out  to  them  the 
same  measure  of  Christian  toleration  he  bestowed  upon 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          215 

the  hapless  victims  of  circumstance  who  were  born  out- 
side of  Virginia.  His  reverence  for  womanhood  was 
sincere  and  openly  expressed.  Toward  the  women  of 
his  household  his  demeanor  was  chivalrous,  his  observ- 
ance of  the  punctilios  of  courtesy  and  deference  as 
exact  as  was  consistent  with  his  jolly  heartiness  of  man- 
ner. I — the  eleven-year-old  pet  of  his  daughter — was 
"  Miss  Judith  "  to  him  always.  In  the  third  week  of 
my  residence  under  his  roof  he  ordered  his  eldest  son 
from  the  breakfast-table  for  chancing  to  omit  the  cere- 
monious prefix  from  my  name.  His  tastes  were  not  in- 
tellectual, but  he  was  not  a  fool,  and  he  must  have 
known  that  his  wife  was,  yet  he  was  kindly-affectioned 
toward  her,  and  stiffened  the  limp  wand  of  her  au- 
thority over  those  boisterous  spirits,  Wickham  and 
Archer,  by  such  appliances  as  a  stout  English  oath  or 
two,  administered  upon  occasion  to  the  former,  and  an 
orthodox  horsewhipping  to  the  younger. 

"What  he  and  his  amiable  wife  thought  of  the  behav- 
ior of  the  elder  of  the  lads  in  walking  from  The  Monu- 
mental with  his  sister  and  Uncle  Archie  I  had  no  means 
of  knowing.  Wickham  boldly,  and  to  his  mother's  dis- 
may, averred  his  intention  of  settling  on  the  Hanover 
plantation  as  soon  as  he  should  be  permitted  to  cast 
aside  books  and  tutors.  He  had  heard  much  said  in 
praise  of  Mr.  Bead's  practical  husbandry,  and  talked 
farm  with  him  industriousty  all  the  way  up  town,  some- 
what, I  suspect,  to  the  scandal  of  Summerfield  notions 
of  Sabbath-day  conversation.  We  found  them  still  at 
it  when  we  entered  the  parlor,  or,  to  state  the  case  more 
accurately,  the  youth  loud  in  exposition  of  certain  agri- 
cultural theories  he  had  formulated  through  much  dili- 
gent study  of  The  Country  Gentleman.  Uncle  Archie 
hearkened  with  outward  good-humor,  the  patient  show 
of  interert  that  had  not  deserted  him,  while  each  minute 


216  JUDITH: 

of  the  walk  thus  consumed  had  been  a  pearl  dropped 
from  the  fast-thinning  string  to  be  left  empty  with  the 
"  Good -by  "  spoken  that  night. 

I  was  heartily  indignant.  Not  more  with  the  thought- 
less boy  than  with  Mr.  Bradley,  whose  pupil  he  was, 
and  who  might  have  called  him  off  upon  one  pretext  or 
another.  Knowing  his  friend  as  he  did,  and  more  than 
suspecting  his  secret,  as  he  must,  with  the  fine  percep- 
tions that  were  ever  on  the  alert,  his  engrossment  at  this 
juncture  in  the  badinage  he  was  carrying  on  with  Miss 
Harry  was  inexcusably  selfish. 

"Take  Miss  Judith's  cloak  and  bonnet  up  stairs, 
"Wickham,  my  son!"  ordered  the  Major.  "Come  to 
the  fire,  my  dear  young  lady.  It  is  turning  deucedly 
cold,  Mr.  Read.  You  will  have  a  disagreeable  ride  to- 
morrow. Better  stay  a  day  or  two  longer.  A  frosty 
snap  can't  last  long  at  this  season,  if  the  old  folks  do 
say: 

"  '  As  the  days  begin  to  lengthen 

Thenthe  cold  begins  to  strengthen.'  " 

While  Uncle  Archie  explained  why  he  must  decline 
the  invitation,  I  crept  up  to  him  and  laid  my  head  upon 
his  shoulder.  He  drew  me  silently  to  his  knee,  kept  his 
arm  about  me,  while  the  others  gathered  around  the 
fire  and  the  talk  became  general.  Once,  in  the  dull  red 
obscurity  of  blending  twilight  and  fire-glow,  he  pressed 
his  lips  upon  my  hair,  and  I  clung  more  closely  to  him, 
but  neither  of  us  spoke  to  the  other.  "What  need  was 
there  of  speech  ?  He  was  always  sure  on  which  side 
my  intensest  sympathies  were  to  be  found  ;  knew  that 
one  heart  besides  his  was  aching  under  thoughts  of  the 
approaching  parting.  I  think — I  hope  it  was  some  poor 
comfort  to  him  to  feel  that  he  left  so  stanch  an  ally  near 
her  whom  he  would  woo,  although  what  poor  influence 
I  had  must  be  exerted  indirectly. 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         217 

Our  supper  was  more  than  usually  profuse,  in  honor 
of  the  day  and  guests.  Mrs.  Dabney  expressed  her 
pleasure  in  the  present  enjoyment  of  dear  Mr.  Bead's 
company  in  smothered  chicken,  smoking  hot  and 
savory ;  her  grief  in  the  prospect  of  his  departure  in 
sponge-cake  and  cream-whips,  tinct  with  peach-kernels ; 
dropped  extra  lumps  of  sugar  into  his  coffee,  and  a  pen- 
sive trickle  of  regrets  into  his  ears  while  he  ate  and 
drank.  There  was  a  deal  of  laughing  and  talking  among 
the  others,  in  which  I  was  gratified  to  see  that  Miss  Vir- 
ginia bore  a  minor  part.  The  repast  over,  we  adjourned 
to  the  parlor,  and  had  sacred  music  for  an  hour,  just  as 
in  what  I  already  thought  of,  as  the  "  dear  old  times," 
when  three  of  the  quartette  sat  on  the  porch-steps  and 
sang,  the  summer  moonlight  penciling  silhouettes  of 
sweetbrier  and  honeysuckle-vines  on  floor  and  steps — 
the  floor  and  steps  Uncle  Archie's  feet  would  press  to- 
morrow night,  while  his  heart  would  be  here  ! 

Did  they  remember  those  al  fresco  concerts  ?  and  re- 
membering, regret  ?  Did  Mr.  Bradley,  standing  at  the 
end  of  the  mantel,  marking  time  with  a  white  fore- 
finger ?  Or  Miss  Virginia,  supplying  a  soft  second, 
sometimes  inaudible  beneath  the  volume  of  Harry  Ma- 
con's  soprano  ?  Did  Uncle  Archie,  while  his  eyes  never 
strayed  from  the  music-book  to  the  face  of  her  who  held 
it  with  him  ? 

The  piano  was  never  opened  on  Sunday.  "  It  did  not 
look  well,"  thought  Mrs.  Dabney.  "  People  passing  by 
might  think  we  were  playing  worldly  music — for  enjoy- 
ment, you  know."  The  young  people  sang  without 
accompaniment  hymn  after  hymn,  coming  at  length  to 
the  fugue  they  had  practiced  together  that  Thursday 
night  in  August,  when  Mammy  and  I  listened  in  the 
upper  chamber : 

"  0  send  Thy  light  to  guide  my  feet." 


218  JUDITH: 

"We  need  Maria's  voice  in  that,"  remarked  Miss 
Virginia  when  it  was  finished.  "  You  must  tell  her, 
Mr.  Read,  that  we  sang  it  and  more  than  wished  for 
her." 

"It  always  reminds  me  of  her,"  said  Mr.  Bradley, 
turning  the  leaves.  "  But  you  took  the  part  very  well." 

"  Maria  sings  it.  I  go  through  with  it !"  was  the 
answer.  "I  think  that  is  just  the  difference  between 
us  in  man}'  things.  She  would  live  and  elevate  and  en- 
joy a  poor  life.  I  just  drift  and  dream." 

Both  men  looked  at  her.  One  spoke,  so  low  that  the 
words  were  lost  to  the  other  two  in  Miss  Harry's  excla- 
mation over  a  tune  she  "  had  been  wanting  to  hear  for 
ages,"  and  just  then  discovered  in  the  collection  before 
her.  She  hummed  a  few  bars  to  make  sure  that  she 
identified  it. 

"  It  pains  me  when  you  slander  yourself,"  was  what 
Uncle  Archie  said,  under  his  breath. 

The  girl  shook  her  head.  "  I  mean  it !  If  you  knew 
me,  you  would  acknowledge  the  truth  of  what  I  say." 

"  Don't  I  know  you  ?" 

His  smile  that,  slight  as  it  was,  held  playful  tender- 
ness and  triumph,  told  how  he  answered  the  question 
to  himself. 

Another  negative  gesture  and  a  deeper  shadowing  of 
the  eyes  raised  in  sad  fearlessness  to  his. 

"  What  do  you  say  to  '  Old  Denmark  ?'  "  ("  old  "  even 
then  !)  cried  Mr.  Bradley,  in  sudden  animation.  "  And 
here  comes  Major  Dabney,  just  in  time  !  We  are  wait- 
ing for  you,  Major  I  Are  you  all  ready  ?"  giving  key 
and  chord  in  his  pleasant  tenor  voice. 

The  Major  spat  into  the  fire,  scraped  his  throat  with 
a  lusty  "Ahem  I"  thrust  both  hands  into  his  pockets, 
cast  the  weight  of  his  pursy  body  well  upon  his  heels, 
and  prepared  to  take  Denmark.  As  he  sang  he  tilted 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          219 

back  and  forth,  raising  heels  and  toes  alternately,  enjoy- 
ing his  own  performance  with  all  his  might. 

"Now,  'Lenox!'"  he  said,  while  the  "sounding 
praise  "  yet  reverberated  in  the  upper  halls,  and  the 
sweet  jingle  of  the  pendants  of  the  candelabra  was  not 
quite  stilled. 

His  stentorian  tones  led  off: 

'"Ye  tribes  of  Adam  join 

With  Heaven  and  earth  and  seas, 
And  offer  notes  divine 
To  your  Creator's  praise.'  " 

Then  came  the  burst  in  which  his  soul — and  mine — 
delighted : 

'"Ye  holy  throng  of  angels  bright 
In  worlds  of  light 
Begin  the  song !'" 

How  they — our  forbears — loved  those  pealing  fugues, 
with  their  billowy  rush  and  chase,  continued  with  in- 
creasing energy  until  to  the  uninitiated  it  seemed  in- 
evitable that  the  tune  must  be  beaten  to  death  by  the 
quickly  succeeding  surges — and  the  "  diapason  closing 
full  "  upon  the  long  open  note  where  counter  and  tenor 
met  together,  base  and  treble  kissed  each  other ! 

"Ah!"  sighed  the  Major  sentimentally,  but  in  no 
wise  spent  by  his  efforts,  "  You  should  have  heard  your 
aunt,  Mrs.  Waddell,  then  Miss  Betsey  Preston,  sing 
those  tunes  in  her  youth,  Mr.  Read !  I  could  have 
listened  forever  !  And  '  Barbara  Allen's  Cruelty '  and 
'A  Rose-Tree  in  Full  Bearing'  and  'The  Galley 
Slave's  Lament,'  or 

" '  Sweet  bird  that  shun'st  the  noise  of  folly 
Most  musical,  most  melancholy  !' 

They  used  to  say  of  your  mother  and  her  that  '  their 
black  eyes  slew  their  thousands,  their  angel  voices  their 
ten  thousands. '  Young  men  could  pay  compliments  ?.n 


220  JUDITH: 

those  times  I  They  had  tongues  in  their  heads  and 
knew  how  to  use  them.  When  one  employs  such  lan- 
guage nowadays,  he  is  ridiculed  as  romantic.  I  don't 
know  what  we  are  coming  to,  in  courtship,  religion  or 
politics !" 

The  jeremiade  was  cut  short  by  the  entrance  of  two 
young  men,  who  called  to  invite  the  ladies  to  accom- 
pany them  to  Trinity  Church  (Methodist)  where  a  pow- 
erful revival  was  in  progress.  Upon  reception  of  civil 
declinatures  of  their  offer,  they  decided  to  remain  and 
spend  the  evening  with  the  fair  ones  they  could  not  al- 
lure abroad. 

At  half-past  ten  the  company  broke  up.  I  had  sat  in 
a  corner  with  my  book,  too  jealous  for  my  uncle's  hap- 
piness to  be  drowsy,  too  intent  upon  watching  for  the 
possible  opportunity  of  saying  a  few  words  aside  to  her 
he  loved  that  might  j-et  be  vouchsafed  to  him  by  fate,  to 
care  to  notice  one  of  the  new-comers.  I  did  observe 
the  other,  because  he  haunted  the  vicinity  of  Miss  Vir- 
ginia, in  overt  defiance  of  conventional  rule  and  criti- 
cism. He  was  in  love  with  her,  and  did  not  care  who 
knew  it,  I  concluded,  disgustedly.  Such  a  cackling  fop 
he  was,  with  his  mirthless  simper  and  ruffled  shirt-front 
and  the  monstrous  watch  seal  pendent  from  his  fob ! 
His  coat  was  of  the  latest  fashionable  tint,  "  invisible 
green. "  The  Dabneys'  butler,  Esopus,  himself  a  dandy, 
called  it  "  bilibous  green. "  Our  beau's  waistcoat  was 
of  black  velvet,  as  were  the  collar  and  cuffs  of  the  coat. 
His  pantaloons  were  gray,  corded  at  the  seams  with 
black.  His  shirt-collar  and  wristbands  and  embroidered 
satin  stock  were  miracles  of  stiffness  and  gloss.  This 
was  the  being  who  stole  two  hours — most  dear,  because 
the  last — of  Miss  Virginia's  society  from  the  man  who 
listened  to  Mrs.  Dabney  when  she  was  in  the  room,  and 
when  she  had  gone  talked  quietly  on  one  side  of  the 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         221 

hearth  with  Mr.  Bradley  while  Miss  Harry  was  capti- 
vating the  stranger  gallant,  at  whom  I  did  not  cast  a 
second  glance.  Nor  did  I  catch  his  name.  Major  Dab- 
ney  had  greeted  his  companion  as  "Ned  Allen." 

Uncle  Archie  made  the  motion  of  departure,  Mr. 
Bradley  rising  at  the  same  time,  and  saying  that  he 
would  walk  down  town  with  him.  The  others  could  not 
sta}-  behind  after  this  decided  measure,  but  they  stood 
about  exasperatingly,  voluble  with  banter  and  compli- 
ment while  Uncle  Archie  made  his  adieux. 

"Give  my  love — my  dearest  love — to  Maria,  and  say 
that  I  shall  write  as  usual,  every  fortnight,"  said  Miss 
Virginia,  her  hand  resting  in  his  a  little— just  a  very 
little  longer  than  Harry  Macon's  had  done.  "And  you 
may  all  be  satisfied  that  we  will  do  our  best  to  make 
Judith  strong  and  rosy  again." 

"  And  to  spoil  her  ?"  he  asked  smilingly. 

She  had  one  of  my  hands  in  hers.  He  took  the  other 
as  he  spoke,  and  bent  down  to  kiss  me.  I  clasped  both 
behind  his  neck  in  an  unvoiced  paroxysm  of  love  and 
regret.  He  drew  me  into  the  hall  to  whisper  comfort. 

"Be  brave,  dear!  You  will  be  very  happy  here.  I 
shall  come  for  you  when  you  are  ready  to  go  home.  You 
and  I  know  how  glad  I  shall  be  of  an  excuse  to  pay  an- 
other visit  soon." 

He  comprehended  that  this  renewed  token  of  his  be- 
lief in  my  sense  and  discretion  would  extract  much  of 
the  bitterness  from  the  parting.  Miss  Virginia  praised 
my  fortitude  while  she  helped  me  undress,  and  tucked 
me  up  in  bed.  Then  she  lay  down  by  me,  my  fingers 
folded  in  hers,  until  I  sank  into  a  sweet  sleep. 

This  must  have  lasted  an  hour  or  more  when  I  awoke, 
thirsty — a  natural  sequence  of  my  supper.  The  two 
girls,  wrapped  in  bedroom  gowns,  sat  over  the  fire  in 
cozy  converse. 


2S2  JUDITH: 

"Indeed — indeed,  you  are  mistaken,  Harry  I"  were 
the  first  words  I  heard.  "  It  would  break  my  heart  to 
believe  it.  He  isn't  a  marrying  man.  He  has  more 
family  cares  than  most  men  of  double  his  age.  I  didn't 
understand  this,  for  a  while  ;  I  fancied  that  he  liked  me, 
and  I  certainly  liked  him — and — I  'm  ashamed  to  tell  it 
even  to  you — one  day  I  tried  to  make  him  speak  out !  I 
forced  him  to  talk  of  himself,  and  showed  how  much 
interested  I  was  in  him  and  his  plans.  My  cheeks  burn 
this  minute  when  I  recollect  it.  My  dear  I  he  shied  off ! 
There  is  no  other  word  for  it.  Then  came  all  the  scares 
and  excitements  of  last  summer,  and  I  think  they  helped 
cure  me — " 

"Miss  Virginia !"  said  I,  sitting  up,  in  a  courageous 
exercise  of  self-denial,  for  I  was  tingling  with  curiosity. 
"  Will  you  please  give  me  a  drink  of  water  ?" 

"Does  our  talking  disturb  you?"  she  inquired,  as  I 
drained  the  tumbler. 

"  No,  ma'am,  but  I  can  hear  what  you  say  when  I  am 
awake." 

"Little  truth-teller!"  She  laughed  and  kissed  my 
forehead.  "You  will  not  be  much  the  wiser  for  what 
you  hear." 

She  believed  what  she  said.  That  she  was  partly 
right,  the  event  proved. 

"What  were  we  speaking  of?"  she  said,  returning  to 
her  seat  by  the  fire. 

"Of  Edward  Dunallan,"  answered  Miss  Harry,  and 
both  laughed. 

A  baby  could  have  seen  through  a  trick  so  flimsy  as 
the  substitution  of  the  novelist's  hero's  name  for  one  so 
much  like  it  1  But  they  may  not  have  known  that  I 
had  heard  Major  Dabney's  address  to  the  aggressively- 
visible  guest  in  the  invisible-green  coat. 

"Edward  Dunallan  is  a  nobleman,"  continued  Miss 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         223 

Virginia.  "Too  good,  too  nearly  perfect  for  such  a 
scrap-bag  of  foibles  and  faults  as  I  am.  I  could  never 
live  up  to  his  standard,  even  if  he  wanted  me  to  do 
it.  I  will  not  believe  that  he  does,  or  ever  did.  He 
must  not — now  /" 

".Virginia  Dabney  !"  Harry's  handsome  face  spoke 
volumes  of  suspicious  inquiry. 

The  other  hid  hers  in  her  hands  for  an  instant,  then 
confronted  her  friend,  laughing,  blushing  and  defen- 
sive. 

"  Even  those  terrible  eyes  cannot  draw  out  a  confes- 
sion when  there  is  nothing  to  tell !  I  did  fancy  myself 
— with  a  girl's  fancy — in  love  with  Mr.  Dunallan  a  hun- 
dred years  ago.  I  am  clean  out  of  love  with  him  now. 
That  is  the  whole  story." 

"  'When  a  stronger  than  he  cometh  he  taketh  from 
him  all  the  armor  wherein  he  trusted,  and  divideth  the 
spoils,'  "  said  Harry  seriously.  "  In  this  case  it  is  the 
weak  who  has  overcome  the  strong.  If  ever  man  was 
worth  waiting  for,  this  one  is.  And  you  are  not  blind 
nor  deaf  nor  silly.  I  lose  patience  with  your  affectation 
of  disbelief  in  his  devotion  to  you." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  in  his  confidence  ?" 

As  she  put  the  question  she  lay  back  in  her  arm-chair, 
linked  her  fingers  behind  her  head,  and  lifted  one  tiny 
foot  to  the  grate.  Her  hair  was  unbound,  and  shawled 
her  as  she  sat. 

"  '  Her  hair,  shedding  sparkles  from  all  its  bright  rings, 
Fell  over  her  white  arm  to  make  the  gold  strings,'  " 

quoted  Harry,  eyeing  her  in  affectionate  admiration. 
"Who  could  help  loving  you,  beautiful  witch  I  No! 
Mr.  Dunallan  has  never  intimated  to  me  the  nature  of 
his  feeling  for  you.  His  sister — the  married  one — let 
fall  a  few  words  once  that  would  have  opened  my  eyes 
had  they  been  shut.  You  know  she  is  my  particular 


224  JUDITH: 

friend.  I  suspect  she  had  match-making  designs  upon 
us  at  one  time — " 

"  That  would  settle  the  matter  beautifully  I"  eagerly. 
"  N&w— Harry  I" 

"Don't  be  imbecile,  Virginia  Dabney !  You  know 
we  wouldn't  marry  one  another  were  we  the  first — or 
the  last — man  and  woman  in  the  world  !" 

The  tart  retort  checked  the  dialogue.  Virginia  leaned 
against  the  brown  cushions  of  her  chair,  the  fair  face 
enrayed  by  the  golden  curls.  If  she  had  met  Disap- 
pointment at  one  turn  in  her  walk  through  the  well- 
kept  garden  of  her  life,  he  had  withdrawn  his  shadow 
before  the  crystal  wells  of  her  eyes  were  clouded.  The 
unrestrained  ease  of  attitude,  the  tranquil  dreaminess 
of  mood  belonged  to  a  woman  heart-whole  and  fancy- 
free.  That  she  had  never  really  suifered  was  plain. 
That  she  could  ever  endure  and  live  and  smile  and  be  fair 
through  the  wrestle  with  love  unrepaid,  desertion,  un- 
kindness,  seemed  absurd. 

Harry  Macon  sat  upright,  her  locked  hands  lying  on 
her  lap,  staring  straight  into  the  grate,  a  vivid  picture 
in  her  crimson  wrapper,  her  hair  tumbling  about  her 
shoulders,  but  put  quite  away  from  her  face. 

"I  have  seen  the  man  I  am  to  marry — twice — within 
the  last  week  !"  she  uttered  abruptly,  by-and-by. 

"  Who  is  he  ?"    Her  friend  was  aroused  and  intent. 

"  I  do  not  know  yet.     I  shall  soon — I  think  !" 

"  Harriet  Byron  Macon  !  are  you  crazy — or  trying  to 
quiz  me  ?  Where  did  you  meet  him  ?" 

"At  the  corner  of  a  street.  I  have  forgotten  the 
name  of  it.  In  front  of  a  large  brick  house  just  there 
with  a  garden  at  one  side.  A  two-story  house,  an  ob- 
long octagon  in  shape — an  odd-looking  affair,  with  three 
arches  opening  into  a  porch  inclosed  on  three  sides,  and 
overhung  with  vines.  The  sun  was  shining  on  the  red 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         225 

walls  and  white  porch,  and  there  were  violets  in  bloom 
somewhere  near,  for  I  smelled  them.  He  came  around 
the  corner  and  met  me  face  to  face,  looked  into  my  eyes, 
and  I  knew  him  at  once.  He  lifted  his  hat  and  was 
gone.  The  next  time  we  met  in  the  same  place.  But 
he  spoke  to  me  very  softly.  It  was  like  the  music  we 
hear  in  our  sleep  sometimes.  He  said,  'Beloved  as 
thou  art !'  Just  those  words.  I  can  hear  them  now." 

Virginia  was  gazing  at  her  in  utter  bewilderment. 

"Is  this  fiction  or  fact  ?"  she  queried  between  petu- 
lance and  amusement. 

"A  dream,  my  dear — none  the  less  a  fact.  The  surest 
sort  of  a  fact — that  which  people  call  '  prophecy  ' — and 
twice  given.  Look  in  your  Bible  there  for  Genesis  xli : 
32." 

"  I  am  not  good — I  shall  never  be  wise,"  she  went  on 
while  the  other  looked  for  the  passage,  "but  I  believe 
in  the  Bible.  All  of  the  Macons  believe  in  dreams. 
Some  of  us  have  the  gift  of  second-sight." 

A  fair  face,  grave  to  earnestness,  looked  from  the 
open  Bible  to  the  seeress. 

"  What  was  he  like  ?" 

"  Like  Saul  for  height  and  strength,  like  Apollo  for 
beauty,  and  I  fell  at  his  feet  and  worshipped  him  I" 


296  JUDITH: 


CHAPTEK  XIV. 

Miss  VIRGINIA  was  to  have  gone  with  us  that  morn- 
ing. I  often  speculate  as  to  what  change  might  have 
been  wrought  in  one  life  had  the  original  plan  been 
carried  out.  For  an  important  purchase  was  the  order 
of  the  day,  even  party  dresses  for  the  two  young  ladies 
I  was  to  make  the  round  of  certain  stores  with  them, 
and  we  had  our  bonnets  on  when  country  friends  called 
on  Mrs.  Dabney  and  her  daughter. 

The  latter  was  disappointed,  but  rallied  swiftly  to 
propose  the  next  best  thing. 

"  This  afternoon  will  do  as  well  for  our  shopping.  But 
the  weather  is  too  beautiful  for  }-ou  to  stay  in  the  house. 
Go  out  for  a  walk.  Judith  has  never  been  to  Gamble's 
Hill.  The  view  will  be  fine  to-day,  the  air  is  so  clear." 

To  Gamble's  Hill  we  accordingly  bent  our  steps. 
There  was  then  but  one  house  upon  the  summit,  the 
family  seat  that  gave  the  eminence  the  name  it  bears. 
The  "  white  house  "  familiar  to  the  readers  of  "  Wirt's 
Life  and  Letters  "  still  looks  down  upon  city  and  river, 
but  it  is  gray  with  years  and  mournful  of  mien.  The 
beholder  whose  thoughts  are  with  the  past  glories  of 
Richmond  need  not  strain  his  imagination  in  order  to 
detect  a  survey  of  sad  amaze  in  window-brows,  disdain- 
ful calm  in  the  broad  stretch  of  the  roof  as  the  shadows 
of  smart  new  buildings  press  nearer  and  nearer  the 
massive  walls.  While  we  strolled  to  and  fro  on  the  turf, 
enjoying  sunshine,  breeze  and  landscape,  Miss  Harry 
told  me  the  history  of  William  Wirt's  courtship.  How 
Miss  Gamble,  whose  father  owned  the  house  before  us, 
while  she  would  not  marry  a  drunkard,  yet  loved  him 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         227 

for  what  he  had  been  and  could  be,  and  was  faithful  to 
that  memory  and  possibility.  How,  as  he  lay  one  day 
in  a  tipsy  stupor  by  the  roadside,  she  chanced  to  walk 
that  way,  and  covered  the  flushed  face  with  a  delicate 
cambric  handkerchief  marked  with  her  name.  When 
he  awoke,  some  children  told  him  that  "  a  beautiful 
lady  "  had  been  his  Good  Samaritan.  In  an  agony  of 
shame,  love  and  gratitude,  the  sobered  man  vowed  to 
himself  and  to  Heaven  to  shake  off  the  debasing  vice, 
and  kept  his  word. 

I  give  the  anecdote  on  the  authority  of  those  who 
claimed  to  know  whereof  they  spoke.  At  the  same 
time  I  admit  that  it  may  possibly  come  under  the  cen- 
sure pronounced  by  Wirt's  biographer  upon  "coarse 
and  disgusting  charges  of  vulgar  excess,  which  I  am  per- 
suaded," the  writer  affirms,  "are  utterly  groundless." 

Kennedy's  description  of  his  hero's  foible  is  melliflu- 
ous rhetoric : 

"  We  may  not  wonder  that,  in  the  symposia  of  those 
days,  the  graver  maxims  of  caution  were  forgotten,  and 
that  the  enemy  of  human  happiness,  always  lying  at 
lurch  to  make  prey  of  the  young,  should  sometimes 
steal  upon  his  guard  and  make  his  virtue  prisoner." 

"  I  don't  see  how  she  could  love  a  drunkard,"  was 
my  comment  upon  Miss  Harry's  story. 

"  He  loved  her,  Sweetbrier  I  He  was  tender  and  true 
to  her.  Falsehood  and  bitter  words  are  among  the 
things  that  kill  love  at  the  root." 

I  looked  up  into  her  face,  comprehending  the  words, 
but  hardly  the  tone. 

"Nobody  could  be  false  or  unkind  to  you,  Miss 
Harry!" 

"Thank  you,  dear,"  as  simply  as  I  had  uttered  the 
naive  compliment.  "  Unkiudness  would  be  hard  for  me 
to  bear.  I  have  been  petted  all  my  life." 


228  JUDITH: 

I  remember  that  we  walked  down  the  hill  rather 
soberly,  along  what  is  now  Fourth  Street,  through 
a  sparsely-built  region.  A  few  manor-houses,  envi- 
roned by  gardens,  were  the  dwellings  of  well-known 
citizens,  and  the  streets  followed  the  fences  and  un- 
dulations of  these  grounds  in  a  perfectly  accommo- 
dating and  feudal  spirit.  We  turned  down  at  Main 
Street,  where  buildings  were  hardly  more  frequent, 
although  the  lower  end  of  the  street  was  the  busiest 
part  of  the  town.  Before  one  house  was  an  organ- 
grinder  with  a  monkey.  I  squeezed  Miss  Harry's 
hand  hard. 

"  You  would  like  to  stop  and  listen,  wouldn't  you  ?" 
said  she,  kindly.  "  So  should  I." 

We  waited  on  the  sidewalk  opposite  while  the  musi- 
cian ground  out  "  Home,  Sweet  Home"  and  sang  "  Buy 
a  Broom  "  to  an  organ  accompaniment,  his  wife  beat- 
ing a  tambourine.  My  eyes  filled  with  tears  while  I  lis- 
tened. Neither  the  Freybourg  organ  nor  the  sweetest 
of  Swedish  songsters  brought  such  pure,  sweet  drops  to 
my  lids  in  years  when  I  knew— more  or  less  ? 

Miss  Harry  gave  me  a  silver  sixpence  to  put  in  the 
hat  the  monkey  passed  around,  and  as  I  ran  across  the 
street  to  drop  it  in,  followed  me  with  the  slow,  imperial 
grace  that  belonged  to  her  gait. 

The  Savoyard  took  off  his  cap  at  her  approach  ;  his 
swarthy,  pinched-featured  wife  courtesied.  The  little 
crowd  of  urchins,  white  and  black,  fell  away  abashed. 

"  I  t'ank  you,  my  ladee  !"  said  the  man,  in  humblest 
respect. 

"  You  are  welcome !" 

She  bowed  in  recognition  of  the  civility.  The  Macons 
were  too  high-bred  for  superciliousness.  Uncle  Archie 
spoke  truly  in  telling  her  that  she  would  not  maltreat 
a  muddy  dog,  and  this  man  was  even  farther  removed 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         229 

from  her  estate  than  one  of  her  father's  pointers  or  fox- 
hounds. 

She  tarried  with  me  while  he  played  a  merry  tune  to 
exhibit  the  miniature  dancers  in  the  upper  front  of  the 
Instrument.  The  modern  hand-organ  lacks  these  orna- 
ments, and  the  rising  generation  is  egregiously  de- 
frauded in  consequence. 

"  Thank  you !"  said  Miss  Harry,  and  I  echoed  the 
acknowledgment.  We  walked  on,  my  mind  full  of  the 
music,  my  imagination  stimulated  by  the  sight  of  the 
lively  monkey. 

"I  wish  I  could  see  a  great  many  wild  animals,"  I 
ejaculated.  "Bears,  lions,  elephants — such  as  we  read 
of." 

"  Wickham  told  me  last  night  that  a  menagerie  and 
circus  will  be  here  this  week,"  rejoined  my  companion. 
"  Perhaps  we  may  go." 

"Miss  Harry  I"  in  a  gasp  of  rapturous  surprise. 

She  laughed,  shaking  the  hand  she  held  back  and 
forth. 

"  What  a  nervous  elf  you  are  !  Get  strong  fast,  and 
you  shall  see  bears,  monkeys  and  tigers  to  your  heart's 
content.  I  smell  violets — don't  you  ?" 

At  this  instant  some  one  came  so  suddenly  around  the 
corner  of  Fifth  Street,  which  we  had  just  reached,  as  to 
brush  against  me  and  throw  me  down.  I  was  not  hurt, 
for  Miss  Harry  did  not  let  go  my  hand.  The  cause  of 
the  mishap  laid  hold  of  me  on  the  other  side,  and  the 
two  had  me  on  my  feet  before  I  quite  grasped  the  fact 
of  my  overthrow. 

"  I  beg  a  thousand  pardons  !"  said  a  deep,  rich  voice 
regretfully.  "  I  hope  you  are  not  hurt  I" 

"  Not  at  all,  thank  you,"  stammered  I,  as  Miss  Harry 
did  not  speak. 

She  behaved  queerly,  leaning  against  the  brick  wall 


230  JUDITH: 

behind  her,  very  pale  and  staring  incredulously  at  the 
stranger.  He  could  not  help  observing  her  manner. 
He  uncovered  his  head,  bowed  very  low  and  gracefully. 

"  Forgive  my  awkwardness,  madam  !  I  am  afraid 
that  I  alarmed  you  very  much.  Can  I  do  anything  for 
you  ?  You  seem  faint." 

Faintness  never  called  up  such  superb  coloring  as 
mantled  her  face  at  this  address.  Her  smile  was  bril- 
liant and  ineffably  sweet ;  her  voice  gentle  ;  her  eyes 
seemed  unable  to  leave  his. 

"I  was  startled — nothing  more  I  I  thank  you  for 
picking  up  my  little  friend.  You  were  not  at  all  to 
blame.  Good  morning  !" 

She  bent  her  head  in  passing  onward.  He  bowed 
again.  It  was  the  exchange  of  salutations  between  a 
young  duchess  and  a  prince  of  the  blood.  He  walked 
down  Main  Street.  We  turned  up  Fifth,  along  which 
he  had  come. 

"  Judith  !"  said  Miss  Harry,  in  changed  accents.  "  I 
am  a  little  faint !  I  must  sit  down  1" 

She  sank  upon  the  lowest  step  of  the  corner  house. 

"  Let  me  ring  the  bell  and  call  somebody  I"  begged  I, 
affrighted. 

"  No  !  no  !    I  shall  be  better  directly  !" 

I  stood  by  her,  put  my  arm  about  her  head  that  she 
might  rest  against  my  breast.  She  trembled  violently, 
her  hands  clasped  one  another  spasmodically. 

There  was  a  vacant  lot  opposite,  and  while  I  waited 
for  her  to  recover,  I  read  mechanically,  yet  not  whollj 
without  interest,  the  advertisement  of 

"  CIRCUS  AND  MENAGERIE, 

UKDEK  THE  IMMEDIATE   SUPERVISION  OF 

MB.    VAN    AMBURG, 

THE  MOST  REXOWNED 

BEAST  TAMER  IN  THE  WORLD  1" 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          231 

on  a  glaring  yellow  placard  six  feet  square.  Beneath 
the  announcement  were  lions  in  cages  with  men's  heads 
in  their  mouths,  and  a  woman  standing  on  one  foot  on 
the  back  of  a  careering  saddleless  horse ;  and  in  im- 
mense red,  white  and  blue  letters,  the  names  of 

"MADEMOISELLE  CAROLINE  PICAED 

AND 

MR.  FREDERIC  TREVELYAN, 

AND 
UNEXAMPLED  FEATS  OF   LEAPING  AND   RIDING  111" 

I  was  perusing  it  from  top  to  bottom  for  the  third 
time  when  Miss  Harry  straightened  herself  up  and  spoke 
quite  naturally. 

"  It  was  very  foolish  in  me  to  be  shocked  by  such  a 
little  thing.  But  I  was  utterly  unprepared —  I  am  en- 
tirely well  again.  I  am  glad  nobody  came  by  or  saw  us 
from  the  windows." 

In  rising  she  turned  to  look  at  the  house.  She  had 
been  sitting  on  the  steps  of  a  sort  of  vestibule.  In  front 
were  three  brick  arches  ;  at  the  back  of  this  was  the 
front  door,  and  on  each  side  of  it  a  window.  The  front- 
age of  the  building  was  three-sided,  a  long  one  taking 
in  the  vestibule,  two  shorter  slanting  back  at  obtuse 
angles  to  join  the  ends  of  the  house,  making  in  all  an 
eight-sided  edifice.  A  brick  wall  inclosed  spacious 
grounds.  Tall  magnolias  arose  above  the  coping,  ivies 
fell  in  loops  and  streamers  on  the  street  side,  and  vines 
clambered  over  the  doorway.  Snow-drops  were  sprout- 
ing in  the  narrow  strip  of  front  yard,  and  the  sun- 
warmed  air  held  the  subtle,  pervasive  scent  of  early 
violets. 

I  grew  dizzy  under  an  unaccountable  sense  of  famili- 
arity with  it  all.  Yet  where  had  I  seen  it,  unless  in 
my  dreams  ?  A  light  pierced  the  whirling  fogs.  This 
was  the  place  Miss  Harry — not  I — had  seen  in  the 


232  JUDITH: 

vision  she  related  a  fortnight  ago — the  spot  where  she 
was  to  meet  her  "fate  " — him  of  whom  she  had  said, 
"Like  Saul  for  height  and  strength — like  Apollo  for 
beauty  I" 

She  took  my  cold  hand  in  hers. 

"  Your  wits  were  shaken  by  the  fall,  I  am  afraid,  dear 
child  !  How  white  you  are  !  Does  your  head  ache  ?" 

"!N"o,  ma'am!"  I  managed  to  say.  "But  I  feel 
strange — somehow !" 

With  the  inexplicable  reticence  of  childhood,  I  ap- 
proached the  truth  no  more  nearly  than  this.  Perhaps 
she  did  not  know  that  I  had  overheard  the  dream.  Or 
she  might  not  have  recalled  it  herself.  Or,  and  more 
probably,  she  did  not  choose  to  have  me  allude  to  it. 
The  part  of  genuine  politeness  in  such  a  case  was,  I 
had  been  instructed  to  believe,  to  follow  her  lead.  For 
all  that,  my  head  continued  to  spin,  my  whole  body  to 
feel  as  "  strange  "  as  if  I  had  drained  a  glass  of  cham- 
pagne. My  ankles  twisted  as  I  trod  pavements  that 
sank  and  swelled  under  my  feet.  "We  hardly  spoke 
during  the  rest  of  our  walk.  At  Major  Dabney's  gate 
my  conductor  paused,  her  hand  on  the  latch. 

"I  have  tired  you  out,  Sweetbrier  !  I  am  a  selfish 
wretch  I" 

"  Miss  Harry  Macon  !  how  can  you  say  such  a  thing !" 
cried  I,  excited  and  shrill. 

"  Hush-sh-sh  I"  whispered  she,  agitatedly. 

A  manly  step  rang  on  the  sidewalk.  I  saw  a  rosy 
aurora  sweep  over  her  cheeks  and  forehead,  wondrous 
light  arise  in  her  eyes.  Her  beautiful  head  bent  in  silent 
response  to  the  mute  salutation  she  received  from  the 
stranger  who  had  run  me  down.  I  had  a  good  look  at 
him  now.  He  was  a  model  of  manly  comeliness  and 
athletic  grace,  tall,  straight,  with  a  Greek  profile,  liquid 
Italian  eyes,  and  a  mouth  that  in  its  perfect  lines  and 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          233 

haughty  curves,  reminded  one  of  Byron's.  A  half- 
smile  touched  it,  and  glinted  on  his  eyes  as  they  fell  on 
me — a  look  of  apology,  amusement  and  kindly  congratu- 
lation ;  his  swift  stride  slackened,  as  if  he  longed  to 
stop  and  speak,  but  he  contented  himself  with  a  respect- 
ful bow,  removing  his  hat  high  from  a  close  crop  of 
dark  curls. 

Miss  Harry  stood  motionless,  her  hand  on  the  gate, 
looking  after  him  until  he  turned  a  distant  corner. 
Then  she  drew  a  deep  breath,  the  nerve-tension  relaxed 
throughout  her  frame,  but  the  marvelous  luminousness 
was  still  in  face  and  eyes. 

"  Judith  !"  impressively.  "  Say  nothing  of  what  has 
happened  in  the  house  !" 

"  I  will  not !"  I  engaged  readily. 

Comprehending  intuitively  that  a  secret  of  moment 
had  accidentally  slipped  into  my  hands,  I  was  as  much 
inclined  as  was  she  to  confine  the  knowledge  of  it  to 
ourselves.  For  the  rest  of  the  day  I  scarcely  dared  look 
at  her  through  fear  of  betraying  her  confidence  by 
meaning  or  embarrassed  regards.  She  was  quieter  than 
usual,  and  the  far-down  light  in  her  eyes  did  not  go  out. 
But  she  did  her  shopping,  entering  with  apparent  zest 
into  the  selection  of  the  India  muslin  and  satin  petti- 
coats that  were  to  be  the  party  costume,  and  at  supper 
joined  in  the  discussion  of  the  circus  plan. 

At  Miss  Virginia's  instigation  we  called  it  "  a  me- 
nagerie "  in  Mrs.  Dabney's  presence.  The  good  Epis- 
copalian would  have  been  horrified  by  the  mention  of 
ring  and  clown,  and  ground-and-lofty-tumbling,  but 
saw  no  earthly  harm  in  allowing  her  sons,  her  young 
step-daughter  and  her  guests  to  make  up  a  party  under 
the  escort  of  the  Major  and  Mr.  Bradley,  "  to  study 
natural  history." 

"For  that  is  what  it  is  if  the  truth  were  told,"  she 


234  JUDITH: 

descanted  at  the  meal  served  the  next  evening,  an  hour 
earlier  than  common,  that  we  might  get  good  seats  in 
the  tent.  "  And  it  must  be  very  improving — very  !  I 
shall  expect  you  boys  to  give  me  an  accurate  descrip- 
tion of  every  wild  beast  set  down  in  Goldsmith's  '  Ani- 
mated Mature. '  I  shall  look  through  the  book  to-night 
so  as  to  be  ready  to  examine  you  when  you  get  back. 
And,  Major,  dear,  I  do  hope  and  beg  and  pra}-  that  }TOU 
won't  let  them  go  too  near  the  monkeys  !  Recollect, 
Archer,  how  the  monkey  bit  Tommy  in  the  fleshy  part 
of  the  arm  in  '  Sandford  and  Merton  !'  You  must  take 
extra  shawls,  all  of  you,  and  don't  get  on  a  high  seat, 
for  pity's  sake  !  for  you  are  heavy,  Major,  and  you 
know  it,  and  think  what  it  would  be  to  that  sweet  little 
Judith  to  be  on  the  bench  should  it  give  way  under 
your  weight ;  nor  on  a  low  one,  for  fear  the  beasts 
should  get  loose  and  attack  the  crowd.  I  suppose  I  am 
nervous  about  crowds,  but  I  came  within  an  ace  of 
going  to  the  theatre,  young  as  I  was — but  then  I '  turned 
out '  at  fifteen — the  night  it  was  burned,  and  dear  me,  if 
I  had  !" 

The  night  was  still  and  bland,  and  as  we  set  forth 
upon  our  expedition  the  music  of  the  circus  band  floated 
up  the  hill.  I  had  never  heard  a  brass  band  until  that 
minute,  and  the  lively  strains  infused  themselves  like 
electricity  through  my  veins.  1  walked  on  tip-toe,  fell 
unconsciously  into  dancing-steps  I  had  never  learned. 

The  Major  laughed  jovially. 

"The  music  has  run  down  into  her  heels,"  he  said, 
pointing  at  me  with  his  cane,  as  I  tripped  before  him, 
between  the  boys.  "It's  as  natural  to  dance  as  to 
breathe,  whatever  Presbyterians  may  say  to  the  con- 
trary, Mr.  Bradley." 

"  Have  I  denied  it,  Major  ?  But  what  of  the  differ- 
ence between  going  to  a  menagerie  and  a  circus  ?" 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         235 

Mr.  Bradley  had  Miss  Virginia  on  his  arm,  the  Major, 
Miss  Harry.  The  music,  and  perhaps  an  exhilarating 
sense  of  possible  unlawfulness  in  the  frolic,  made  all 
hilarious.  As  we  neared  the  scene  of  the  entertain- 
ment, the  patter  and  echo  of  many  other  feet  heightened 
the  effect  of  these  stimulants.  Van  Amburg's  name 
gave  respectability  to  what  hundreds  besides  Mrs.  Dab- 
ney  would  have  reprobated. 

"After  all,"  observed  Mr.  Bradley,  raising  his  voice 
for  the  advantage  of  the  juvenile  trio,  "we  need  not  go 
into  the  circus  tent  at  all  unless  we  choose.  We  are 
bound  for  the  menagerie." 

Archer  began  a  protest,  nipped  at  the  third  word  by 
his  brother's  energetic  "aside." 

"  Shut  up,  you  silly  beggar  !  He 's  only  quizzing  you. 
"Wild  horses  couldn't  keep  him  out  of  the  big  tent,  if  he 
is  a  pious  Presbyterian  and  in  love  !" 

In  love  with  whom  ?  I  had  just  time  to  decide  that 
some  Richmond  syren  must  have  the  credit  of  the 
supposed  conquest,  and  to  smile  disdainful  incredulity, 
when  we  caine  in  sight  of  the  encampment.  It  was  on 
Council  Chamber  Hill,  then  a  respectable  mound,  and 
numbered  among  the  Seven  Hills  on  which  the  city  was 
built.  We  climbed  the  ungraded  sides  to  the  main 
marquee,  snowy  white  in  the  moonlight.  The  entrance 
was  packed  with  young  and  old.  Evidently  early  sup- 
pers had  been  the  rule  that  evening  in  town,  and  good 
seats  were  already  at  a  premium.  We  struggled  in  with 
the  rest,  and  it  was  unanimously  resolved  that  the  in- 
spection of  the  wild-beast  cages  must  be  deferred  until 
after  "the  performances." 

"Plenty  of  time  then!  plenty  of  time!  and  a  con- 
founded sight  more  room  I"  panted  the  Major,  lunging 
forward  in  the  wake  of  the  crowd.  "  I  wouldn't  have 
the  children  miss  seeing  Van  Amburg  put  his  head  be- 


236  JUDITH: 

tween  the  lion's  jaws  for  a  hundred  dollars.  All  that 
sort  of  thing  is  in  the  main  tent !" 

In  which  we  were  presently  bestowed,  and  by  rare  luck 
or  management  in  the  best  possible  position  for  seeing. 

"  And  being  seen  I"  said  Miss  Harry,  running  her 
eyes  from  tier  to  tier. 

I  suspected  whom  she  hoped  to  recognize  in  the  mixed 
assembly  the  town  had  been  decimated  to  produfce.  In 
quick  sympathy  with  the  curiosity  I  imputed  to  her,  I 
stared  with  all  my  might  at  every  masculine  head  that 
overtopped  its  neighbors.  "The  Prince,"  as  I  had 
named  him  in  my  thoughts,  was  not  to  be  seen.  He 
might  despise  circuses  as  low  and  frivolous — or,  what  if 
he  had  left  town  ?  Miss  Harry's  composure  perplexed 
me.  There  was  not  a  shade  of  disappointment  in  her 
sunny  face,  or  in  the  eyes  the  consciousness  of  her 
happy  secret  never  left,  as  she  withdrew  them  from 
the  mass  of  spectators  and  began  to  chat  easily  with 
her  party.  She  sat  at  one  end  of  the  lofty  bench  nearest 
the  aisle  dividing  our  section  of  the  amphitheatre  from 
the  next.  Miss  Virginia  sat  by  her  and  then  came  Mr. 
Bradley.  I  was  just  above  and  behind  Miss  Harry, 
and  in  a  line  with  the  Major  and  his  boys.  The  beau- 
tiful country  girl  was  the  object  of  much  and  flattering 
attention.  Admiring  looks  were  bent  upon  her  from  all 
sides,  and  several  gentlemen  risked  the  loss  of  their 
seats  by  walking  down  or  up  the  steep  incline  to  pay 
their  respects.  Her  manner  was  easy  and  affable,  her 
repartee  happy  and  prompt.  She  seemed  intent  upon 
nothing  beyond  the  amusement  of  the  hour.  I  did  not 
understand  how  firmly  the  fatalistic  superstition  that 
Time  would  bring  to  her  her  own  had  rooted  itself 
among  her  beliefs.  Having  seen  the  Prince,  she  could 
wait.  The  lapse  of  days  nor  months  could  make  him 
less  hers  than  she  knew  him  to  be. 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          237 

The  performances  began  with  a  race  of  ponies  ridden 
by  monkeys,  an  absurd  scamper  that  wrought  boys  up 
to  ecstatic  yells  and  put  their  elders  in  good  humor. 
Then  the  clown  tumbled  into  the  sawdust  arena,  to  be 
bullied  by  the  man  with  the  long  whip  and  to  non-plus 
him  by  stale  quips  and  factitious  facetiousness,  and 
Mademoiselle  Caroline  Picard,  in  white  silk  tights  and 
gauze  skirts,  less  brief  than  her  modern  successors  are 
privileged  to  assume  in  like  circumstances,  flew  around 
the  circle,  sitting,  standing  and  leaping  through  hoops 
from  the  bare  back  of  a  milk-white  charger  that  raced 
at  full  speed  the  while  she  pirouetted  and  vaulted. 

The  ring  was  cleared,  and  a  cage  on  wheels  drawn  by 
two  gray  horses  rumbled  in.  A  big  head,  tawny  and 
majestic,  looked  with  red  eyes  between  the  bars.  A 
lioness  crouched  in  one  corner.  The  band  played  very 
softly.  We  heard  the  uneasy  growlings  the  captive 
emitted  in  stalking  back  and  forth  in  the  pitifully-short 
round.  A  man  walked  leisurely  into  the  arena,  attired 
in  a  closely-fitting  suit  of  black  velvet.  In  his  hand  he 
carried  a  bamboo  walking-stick  that  a  touch  of  the 
lion's  paw  would  have  snapped  as  a  straw.  He  opened 
a  slide  at  the  back  of  the  cage,  slipped  in  and  shut  the 
grating  behind  him.  The  beast  growled  savagely  and 
was  answered  by  the  lioness.  The  band  glided  into  the 
mournful  melody  of  Moore's  "Farewell,  farewell  to 
thee,  Araby's  Daughter,"  as  the  man  fell  on  his  knees 
and  thrust  the  top  of  his  head  between  the  distended 
jaws  dripping  with  foam.  It  really  entered  the  dread 
cavern,  but  it  emerged  very  quickly,  and  the  huge 
brute,  rising  on  his  hind  legs,  took  his  human  comrade 
to  his  shaggy  bosom  in  a  hearty  embrace.  They  tumbled 
over  and  over  one  another  like  two  kittens  at  play,  the 
lioness  coming  in  for  her  share  in  the  romp.  Then  the 
slide  was  opened  and  shut,  and  the  world-renowned 


238  JUDITH: 

tamer  of  beasts  was  bowing  his  thanks  for  the  screamed 
hurrahs,  the  stampings  and  clappings,  excited  by  his 
feat  and  timely  escape  with  his  life,  and  the  grumbling 
lion  was  rumbling  back  into  the  obscurity  of  the  side 
scenes. 

Miss  Harry  looked  around  at  me. 

"  Well,  pet !  are  you  glad  you  came  ?  The  best  part 
of  it  to  me  is  that  you  are  here.  It  is  all  clear,  thorough 
delight  to  you.  The  lion  is  just  from  the  African  forest 
and  the  man  in  real  peril ;  Mademoiselle  Caroline  is  a 
sylph  who  never  heard  of  red  and  white  paint,  and  the 
clown's  jokes  are  funny.  I  wouldn't  take  you  behind 
the  scenes  for  the  world." 

"  I  wouldn't  go  I"  asserted  I,  stoutly.  "  It  is  twice 
as  much  fun  to  believe  in  everything.  People  are  not 
obliged  to  go  behind  the  scenes,  as  you  call  it." 

"  Very  true,  dear !  We  will  keep  on  believing — you 
and  I.  Miss  Virginia  and  Mr.  Bradley  may  be  infidels 
if  they  like.  This  is  a  pretty  fair  world,  taken  as  a 
whole." 

While  she  was  speaking,  the  band  clashed  out,  "  Over 
the  Water  to  Charlie !"  and  a  magnificent  figure  ran 
fleetly  down  the  slope  from  the  side  door  into  the  vacant 
ring — a  dazzling  apparition  clad  in  a  white  and  silver 
costume  fitting  perfectly  to  the  matchless  limbs ;  a  crea- 
ture beautiful,  tall  and  agile  as  a  young  god.  After  him 
rushed  a  superb  coal-black  horse.  As  it  flew  by  he 
clutched  the  mane  and  sprang  to  its  back,  standing 
erect  upon  one  foot,  and  they  went  like  the  wind  around 
the  circle. 

"HORSE  I"  The  ringing  shout  outswelled  the  ap- 
plause of  the  lookers-on  and  the  blare  of  the  instru- 
ments. 

A  second  black  racer  flashed  to  his  place  under  the 
outsiyetched  foot  of  the  rider ;  his  rein  tossed  upward 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         289 

to  his  grasp,  and  the  wild  flight  was  not  abated  by  so 
much  as  a  single  hoof-beat. 

"HORSE  !"  A  third,  dusky  and  fleet  as  the  others, 
joined  the  coursing  pair. 

A  fourth  shout,  and  a  quartette  dashed  forward  and 
around  on  the  bound  as  one  animal,  held,  guided  and 
animated  by  the  radiant  Apollo.  x  It  was  the  sensation 
of  the  night,  and  with  it  the  crowd  lost  its  senses.  Men 
arose  on  the  benches  and  swung  their  hats  and  canes, 
shouting  themselves  hoarse  ;  women  beat  their  gloved 
hands  excitedly  and  bent  far  forward  to  watch  the  glit- 
tering sprite  and  his  bearers — the  tripartite  union  of 
beauty,  strength  and  speed  ;  the  music  pealed  high  and 
triumphant  to  a  final  boom  and  crash  as  the  horses  sped 
out  of  the  ring  and  back  to  their  stables,  leaving  their 
master  flushed,  smiling  and  glorious  in  the  arena,  bow- 
ing and  kissing  his  hand  to  the  applauding  multitude. 

Not  until  that  moment  did  I  recognize  him.  Not 
until  then  did  Harry  Macon  rise,  throw  up  her  arms, 
totter  and  fall  like  one  shot  in  the  heart.  So  unex- 
pected was  the  action  that  no  one  near  her  could  have 
foreseen  it  and  moved  in  time  to  save  her.  The  aisle 
between  the  banks  of  seats  was  fearfully  precipitous, 
and  the  senseless  form  went  directly  down  and  forward. 
Before  it  touched  the  earth,  the  athlete  gave  a  mighty 
bound  that  cleared  ring  and  rope-fence,  and  caught  her 
in  his  arms. 


240  JUDITH: 


CHAPTER  XV. 

"AND  Sweetbrier  missed  the  monkeys !" 

Miss  Harry  had  not  risen  at  breakfast-time.  I  sus- 
pect, now,  that  she  kept  her  bed  as  much  to  be  out 
of  the  way  of  Mrs.  Dabney's  babblement  as  because  she 
really  felt  jarred  and  weak.  I  was  now  perched  beside 
her  on  the  bed,  and  Miss  Virginia  sat  a  little  way  off. 

I  blushed  furiously  at  her  compassionate  tone. 

"As  if  I  cared  for  them  or  anything  else  when  you 
were  sick  !  I  could  have  gone  back  with  Major  Dabney 
and  the  boys  if  I  liked  I" 

"  Sweetbrier  lost  her  heart  to  the  handsome  circus- 
rider  who  saved  you  from  more  serious  damage  than  a 
few  bruises  and  a  general  jar  of  the  nerves,"  observed 
Miss  Virginia  playfully.  "  She  kept  close  at  his  heels 
when  he  carried  you  out  of  the  tent.  Fifty  people 
offered  help,  but  he  would  let  no  one  touch  you  until  he 
laid  you  on  the  grass  on  the  side-hill  away  from  the 
crowd.  Then  he  brought  water  and  hartshorn  and 
brandy  and  I  don't  know  what  else.  I  suppose  that 
kind  of  people  always  keep  restoratives  at  hand  in  case 
of  accidents.  When  you  came  to  he  was  standing  a 
little  way  off,  shining  like  a  tall  white  angel  in  the 
moonlight.  But  when  father  wanted  to  thank  him  for 
his  services  he  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  Wickham 
picked  up  a  strange  story  about  him  last  night.  He 
says  that  Frederic  Trevelyan  is  not  his  real  name,  but 
that  he  belongs  to  a  good  old  English  family,  and  does 
all  this  riding  and  leaping  for  amusement,  and  in  order 
to  see  some  other  side  of  life  than  that  usually  pre- 
sented to  people  of  his  rank — '  for  a  spree',  Wickham 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          241 

says.  Father  is  going  to  see  him  to-day.  He  meant  to 
offer  him  a  reward  in  money  for  his  presence  of  mind 
and  timely  aid,  but  if  there  is  any  foundation  for  this 
story,  that  wouldn't  be  proper,  I  suppose?" 

"  Certainly  not  I" 

Miss  Harry  lay  back  on  her  pillows,  gazing  straight 
up  at  the  ceiling.  Her  voice  had  a  hollow,  stifled 
sound,  and  she  was  very  pale.  For  myself,  I  was  in  a 
secret  quiver  of  relief  and  joy.  This  was  the  Prince, 
then  !  and  in  disguise,  which  made  the  adventure  the 
more  romantic.  I  could  not  utter  my  rapture,  but  I 
secured  one  of  the  cold  hands  and  stroked  it  until  it 
began  to  warm  under  the  fervent  caress.  Presently  she 
smiled  languidly  at  me. 

"What  a  comfort  she  is,  Virginia!  A  born  nurse, 
and  already  a  woman  in  sense  and  tact !" 

I  was  childish  enough  to  begin  to  sob  hysterically  at 
this,  and  Miss  Virginia  took  me  away  to  another  room 
to  soothe  me.  She  had  ordered  the  carriage  for  a  drive 
to  Church  Hill,  where  she  had  an  errand,  and  would 
have  me  go  with  her.  On  the  way  back  we  called  at  a 
bookstore  that  I  might  select  a  new  book  for  myself.  A 
dapper  little  man  waited  on  us,  who  was,  she  told  me 
when  we  came  out,  one  of  the  notable  characters  of 
Kichmond.  He  was  not  young  in  the  face,  but  his 
clustering  chestnut  hair  was  ver}'  thick  and  sleek,  and 
had  an  odd  look  where  it  was  parted  ;  he  lisped,  and  his 
feet  glided  and  frisked  from  counter  to  shelves  as  if  life 
were  a  perpetual  minuet  and  he  the  leader  of  the  set. 
He  quoted  Shakspeare  three  times,  Byron  and  Moore 
each  twice,  Cowper  once  and  alluded  to  Addison  in  ten 
minutes,  although  our  quest  was  for  children's  books. 
"While  I  was  looking  at  "  Riches  without  Wings,"  and 
Miss  Edgeworth's  "Moral  Tales,"  he  began  talking  to 
Miss  Virginia  of  the  event  of  the  previous  evening. 


243  JUDITH: 

"I  never  th&w  a  more  thrilling  thene  than  Mith 
Macon'th  fall  and  her  rethcue,"  he  said.  "  Thome  of 
the  fellow th  made  a  bet  on  the  thpot  ath  to  the  ground 
covered  by  the  leap,  and  meathured  it  afterward. 
Twenty-five  feet  upon  my  honor  as  a  gentleman,  and  on 
the  level !  The  thtory  ith,  on  the  thtreet  to-day,  that  he 
is  a  dithtinguithed  nobleman.  He  inutht  have  had  con- 
thiderable  thircuth  practithe  if  he  wath  born  in  the 
purple.  Ah !  '  we  know  what  we  are' — that  ith,  now 
and  then  one  of  uth  doeth  ! — '  but  we  know  not  what 
we  thall  be  !'  '  Mithery  maketh  uth  acquainted  with 
thtrange  bedfellowth !'" 

"Do  you  believe  this  story  of  the  disguised  noble- 
man ?"  asked  Miss  Virginia. 

The  little  man  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  spread  out 
his  hands  in  non-committal  of  his  valuable  opinion. 

"Who  can  thay  ?  It  may  be  true.  It  may  as  eathily 
not  be  true.  He  ith  a  handthome  fellow,  with  rather 
audathiously-developed  muthelth,  and  altogether  too 
tall  for  true  thymmetry.  But  he  ith  a  creditable  thpeci- 
men  of  mere  animal  perfection." 

When  we  reached  home,  we  ran  up-stairs  gleefully — I, 
to  show  my  books  (Miss  Virginia  had  pressed  both  upon 

me) ;  my  companion  to  recount  Phil  D 's  criticism  of 

Frederic  Trevelyan's  physique.  Miss  Harry  was  up 
and  dressed,  and  with  her  was  Mrs.  Dabney,  in  a  state 
of  flutter  impossible  to  describe.  Harry's  cheeks  were 
full-blown  carnations,  although  she  feigned  smiling 
composure  ;  the  elder  lady  had  been  crying  so  profusely 
and  recently  that  the  handkerchief  she  flourished  in  her 
declamation  was  still  damp. 

"Ah,  here  you  are,  my  poor,  dear  child  1"  she  burst 
out  at  sight  of  her  step-daughter.  "  If  I  were  to  be  led 
to  the  gallows  the  next  second,  with  no  hope  of  pardon 
axcept  upon  taking  back  what  I  said  to  your  father,  and 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          243 

I  will  say  that  the  Major,  while  he  is  an  excellent  man, 
with  a  fair  share  of  delicacy  of  feeling,  for  a  man  of 
course,  for  if  the  truth  were  told,  men  have  not  the 
feelings  of  women,  nor  for  the  matter  of  that  half  the 
common  sense  their  wives  and  daughters  have,  or  he 
would  never  have  made  a  social  blunder  like  this,  and  a 
social  blunder  looks  as  bad  as  a  real  breach  of  the  Com- 
mandments, the  Lord  have  mercy  upon  us  and  incline 
our  hearts  to  keep  His  law,  and  there 's  no  telling  where 
such  a  mistake  may  end,  and  the  boys  with  their  heads 
full  of  circuses  and  gentlemen  in  stockinet  and  spangles 
fitting  like  their  skin  to  show  the  play  of  the  muscles 
which  I  don't  consider  decent,  and  'though  obliged  to 
submit  to  what 's  done  and  can't  be  helped,  because  it 's 
a  woman's  duty  to  honor  and  obey  her  husband,  I  sup- 
pose, or  St.  Paul  wouldn't  have  said  it,  and  I  'm  fairly 
sick  all  over  with  the  thought  of  you,  poor  darlings, 
sitting  down  to  table  with  one  of  the  lower  classes,  for 
1  'm  not  to  be  fooled  with  their  stuff  about  assumed 
names,  the  worse  for  him  if  it  is  so,  with  Frederic  Tre- 
velyan  pasted  on  the  fences  at  the  street  corners,  and 
plain  John  Something-or-other  on  the  visiting-card  he 
gave  your  father,  and  our  sweet  Harry  Macon  has  it  in 
her  hand  this  blessed  minute,  large  as  life,  set  him  up 
with  his  humbugs,  for  I  don't  call  myself  proud,  but  the 
Dabneys  and  Archers  and  Carrs  are  as  good  blood  as 
there  is  in  Vii'ginia,  and  I  've  never  been  called  to 
go  through  anything  like  this  before — never !  never  ! 
never !" 

Even  the  gentle  Virginia  looked  shocked  as  she  stooped 
to  take  the  card  from  Harry  and  read  it  aloud.  It  was 
a  neat  bit  of  pasteboard,  inscribed  : 

"MR.  JOHN  WARING. 

Fairwold  Hall, 

Hampshire,  England  J' 


'244  JUDITH: 

"Do  3~ou  mean,  mother,  that  father  has  inviteu  him 
to  dinner?"  she  asked  in  a  tone  that  expressed  entire 
sympathy  -with  the  drift  of  the  protest,  the  sentiments 
of  which  were  irretrievably  disjointed.  "  How  did  it 
happen  ?'' 

She — and  eventually  I — disentangled  the  truth  from 
the  medley  that  followed  the  question.  Major  Dabney 
had  found  Mr.  Frederic  Trevelyan  at  the  Eagle  Hotel, 
in  which  aristocratic  quarters  Van  Amburg  and  a  few 
leading  members  of  his  troupe  had  established  them- 
selves. The  athlete  was  dressed  like  a  gentleman  and 
deported  himself  as  one,  winning  so  rapidly  upon  the 
Major's  good-will  and  respect  b}r  a  frank  avowal  of  his 
incognito,  the  production  of  his  visiting  card  and  a 
grave  confession  that  his  connection  with  the  circus 
company  had  been  a  blunder  unworthy  of  a  man  of 
sense  and  breeding,  that  the  listener,  in  a  fit  of  admira- 
tion, gratitude  and  hospitality,  asked  him  to  partake  of 
a  family  dinner  that  day,  that  Miss  Macon  might  thank 
him  in  person  for  the  service  he  had  done  her. 

"  There  is  no  way  out  of  it  that  I  can  see,"  mused 
Miss  Virginia,  aloud  and  reluctantly. 

"  Why  should  there  be  ?" 

It  was  Miss  Harry  who  spoke.  She  had  been  biting 
her  lip  and  pinching  her  hands  during  the  talk  of  mother 
and  daughter.  X'ow  she  could  restrain  speech  no  longer, 
and  it  was  many-edged. 

"Why  should  there  be  ?  The  man  is  well-born,  well- 
bred,  and  a  stranger  in  Richmond.  His  masquerade  of 
the  circus-rider  is  a  harmless  freak,  the  bad  taste  of  which 
he  admits.  I  am  at  a  loss  to  see  how  it  is  more  degrad- 
ing than  for  Virginia  gentlemen  to  ride  their  own  horses 
on  the  race-course  or  in  steeple-chases.  He  may  be  a 
degree  less  eligible  to  a  seat  at  our  tables  than  haber- 
dashers' clerks  or  tobacco-factory  overseers ;  but  in  a 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         345 

republic  even  blue  blood  must  make  some  concessions. 
Still,  I  cannot  deny  that  the  trifling  circumstance  of  his 
having  saved  my  life  may  bias  my  judgment  somewhat. 
Forgive  me  !  I  ought  not  to  have  spoken  !" 

However  this  might  be,  she  had  ended  the  debate. 
Mrs.  Dabney  saw  that  she  was  angered  or  hurt,  and 
hastened  to  make  amends  for  her  unintentional  offense 
by  declaring  her  willingness  to  eat  and  drink  with  "any 
white  man  "  who  had  rendered  them  so  signal  a  benefit. 
She  imagined  that  his  coining  this  once  would  hurt  no- 
body. It  was  not  like  giving  company  in  his  honor ; 
and  when  it  was  over  she  should  be  glad  to  remember 
that  she  had  done  all  in  her  power  for  dear  Harry's  pre- 
server. The  servants  would  not  know  who  "Mr. 
"Waring  "  was,  "  even  if  they  had  seen  him  at  the  cir- 
cus, as  was  more  than  probable,  with  all  his  paint 
washed  off,  and  in  a  Christian  coat  and  pantaloons  ;  an 
English  gentleman  in  plain  broadcloth  and  no  spangles 
and  toggery,  might  dine  at  our  table  and  nobody  think 
of  his  ever  having  heard  of  that  vulgar  Trevelyan  fel- 
low standing  on  his  head  on  the  fences." 

Not  even  the  boys  were  taken  into  our  confidence, 
and  as  they  were  not  allowed  to  come  to  the  first  table, 
the  danger  of  identification  seemed  slight. 

Mr.  John  "Waring  was  stately,  and  for  awhile  reserved 
in  manner,  positively  overawing  the  fidgety  hostess, 
who  twice  during  the  dinner  accosted  him  as  "Mr. 
Tre — "Waring,  I  beg  your  pardon  !" 

The  second  time  this  happened  he  said  gravely,  "My 
inconsiderate  conduct  has  made  the  mistake  possible, 
madam !  It  is  I  who  should  apologize  to  you.  It  is 
just  that  I  should  pay  dearly  for  my  foil}'.  Since  yes- 
terday I  have  felt  how  severe  the  punishment  may  be." 

His  eyes  strayed,  as  by  accident,  to  Miss  Harry's  as 
he  said,  "since  yesterday."  Had  they  lighted  on  me 


246  JUDITH: 

I  could  not  have  been  hotter  and  more  confused.  She 
had  been  unusually  silent  up  to  that  minute,  but  now 
she  took  the  duty  of  replying  out  of  Mrs.  Dabney's 
hands. 

"  The  self-conviction  of  folly  is,  I  fancy,  the  severest 
penalty  the  error  will  entail  upon  you,"  she  said  very 
gently.  "This  is  always  true  with  sensitive  minds. 
Nothing  others  say  of  us  hurts  like  the  fault  we  are  com- 
pelled to  find  with  ourselves." 

He  looked  gratefully  humble. 

"  Thank  you  !  What  you  say  is  more  true  than  you 
can  imagine." 

In  the  parlor  he  ventured  to  approach  and  converse 
with  her,  standing  for  some  time,  then  taking  a  chair 
near  her.  She  beckoned  me  to  a  stool  at  her  side,  an 
instinctive  device  to  avoid  the  semblance  of  a  confiden- 
tial dialogue.  They  talked  easily,  and  on  commonplace 
themes.  The  Waverly  novels,  the  reflection  of  Eng- 
lish manners  and  social  customs  in  Virginian  society, 
the  early  history  of  the  state,  the  natural  beauties  of 
her  capital,  etc.,  were  the  topics.  Miss  Virginia  was 
drawn  into  the  discussion  after  a  little,  and  Mrs.  Dab- 
ney,  sitting  near  the  front  windows  with  her  tambour- 
frame,  prattled  incessantly  in  an  undertone  to  her 
husband.  He  was  drowsy  after  his  dinner  and  two 
glasses  of  port,  and  longing  for  his  pipe,  but  conven- 
tionality held  him  to  the  post  of  nominal  entertainer. 
Had  the  visitor  been  a  man  of  his  own  caste  he  would 
have  left  him  to  the  ladies  with  an  apology  for  the  con- 
straining power  of  a  habit  that  withdrew  him  from  the 
room  for  a  season.  As  his  social  inferior,  he  was,  while 
in  his  house,  entitled  to  such  scrupulous  attention  as 
might  put  him  altogether  at  his  ease.  It  is  only  with 
his  equals  that  the  thoroughbred  takes  liberties. 

It  was  the  Major  who  proposed  music,  probably  in 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         247 

the  hope  that  he  might  slip  out  unchallenged,  and,  with- 
out incivility,  absent  himself  long  enough  to  snatch  a 
dozen  whiffs.  He  called  on  Miss  Harry  for  a  song,  and 
she  played,  instead,  a  couple  of  waltzes  and  a  march, 
alleging  that  the  fall  of  the  night  before  had  "shaken 
her  voice  to  pieces." 

"Had  you  ever  fainted  until  then  ?"  inquired  Mr. 
Waring,  in  a  matter-of-fact  way. 

He  was  standing  at  the  end  of  the  piano,  and  had  a 
full  view  of  her  countenance.  From  my  seat  behind 
her  I  saw  the  scarlet  tide  stream  over  her  neck  and 
steep  the  small  ears. 

"No  !"  she  said  curtly.  "Virginia  !  I  will  play  the 
accompaniment  if  you  will  sing  '  The  harp  that  once 
through  Tara's  halls.'  " 

A  duet  succeeded  to  the  song,  and  Mrs.  Dabney 
spoke  up  with  agreeable  intent.  The  Major  had  stolen 
away,  and  she  spurred  herself  on  to  cover  his  retreat. 

"Mr.  Waring!  you  have  a  singing  face  !  I  can  al- 
ways almost  tell  by  looking  at  a  person  whether  they 
sing  or  not,  and  by  their  voice  in  speaking,  you  know ; 
and  yours  is  so  very  pleasant  I  'm  just  as  sure  as  if  I 
had  heard  you  that  you  are  a  beautiful  singer,  and  may- 
be play,  too,  for  you  foreign  gentlemen  are  so  accom- 
plished, and  it  is  a  burning  sin  and  shame  that  our 
young  men  are  so  remiss  in  cultivating  such  things ;  I 
am  sure  they  would  be  more  domestic  if  they  would." 

"I  did  play  and  sing  once,"  confessed  the  English- 
man. "When  I  was  'domestic,' and  lived  at  home 
with  my  sisters,  who  were  really  fine  performers.  Ex- 
cuse the  personal  allusion,  Miss  Dabney,  but  your  voice 
reminds  me  of  my  sister  Eleanor's.  She  is  the  younger 
of  the  two.  I  have  seldom  touched  a  piano  during  the 
half  year  I  have  spent  in  America — the  organ  not  once. 
It  may  shock  you,  Mrs.  Dabney  " — with  a  smiling  bow 


248  JUDITH: 

\ 

in  her  direction — "to  learn  that  I  was  the  organist  in  out 
parish  church.  My  uncle  is  the  rector,  and  my  father 
gave  the  instrument  when  I  was  a  lad  of  sixteen.  I 
could  not  bear  to  have  other  hands  than  mine  touch  it. ' ' 

"What  his  touch  was  we  had  an  opportunity  of  judg- 
ing when,  yielding  courteously  to  persuasion,  with  no 
affectation  of  unwillingness,  but  rather  as  if  tempted 
by  the  sight  of  keys  and  music,  he  sat  down  to  the 
piano.  He  played  boldly  and  with  fine  taste.  Miss 
Virginia  said,  in  after  days,  that  his  musical  skill  did 
more  than  all  other  proofs  to  convince  her  that  his 
tales  of  John  Waring  and  Fairwold  Hall  were  not  a 
myth.  The  Major  shortly  reappeared,  wide  awake  and 
delighted,  drew  near  the  piano,  and  applauded  vocifer- 
ously the  stirring  march  that  ended  with  the  "Marseil- 
laise," rendered  magnificently.  Mrs.  Dabney  clapped 
her  hands  effusively  at  the  success  of  her  maneuver — 
the  verification  of  her  suspicions. 

"  The  song  !    Now  for  the  song  1"  she  cried. 

The  boys  were  peeping  through  the  crack  of  the  half- 
open  door,  and  I  caught  glimpses  of  the  servants  hover- 
ing about  hall  and  staircase.  The  piano  had  never 
spoken  and  thundered  thus  before  in  that  house.  It 
was  the  glad  shout  of  unbound  Ariel,  glorying  in  his 
strength.  All  were  excited  and  eager  for  more. 

"  Do  you  know  Shelley  ?"  the  musician  asked  of  Miss 
Harry,  after  a  little  thoughtful  preluding. 

She  had,  involuntarily,  approached  the  instrument 
while  he  played.  Her  sensitive  face  was  a  lovely  study 
of  color  and  expression. 

' '  Very  slightly.  I  have  read  his  '  Skylark, '  of  course. ' ' 

"  His  songs  are  comparatively  little  known,  but  they 
are  models  of  their  kind.  My  father  and  he  were 
friends  in  their  youth.  We  are  more  familiar  with  his 
poems  on  that  account  than  we  would  otherwise  have 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         249 

been.  '  The  Fugitives '  used  to  be  a  favorite  with  us  at 
home.  I  may  remember  it.  I  ought  never  to  forget  it." 
He  played  a  symphony  in  which  the  roaring  of  the 
winds  warred  with  the  tumult  of  sea- waves,  the  light- 
nings gleamed  blue  on  hissing  hail.  Then  his  voice 
arose  full  and  grand — a  voice  that  in  melody  and  com- 
pass carried  feeling  by  storm  and  swept  criticism  out  of 
the  field.  His  articulation  was  singularly  distinct.  We 
did  not  lose  a  word  of  the  descriptive  ballad : 

"  '  The  waters  are  flashing, 
The  white  hail  is  dashing, 
The  lightnings  are  glancing, 
The  hoar-spray  is  dancing — 
Away  !' " 

We  put  off  from  shore  in  the  boat  with  the  pale 
helmsman  and  the  fleeing  lovers  : 

"  '  And  from  isle,  tower  and  rock 
The  blue  beacon-cloud  broke, 
Though  dumb  in  the  blast, 
The  red  cannon  flashed  fast 
From  the  ice.' " 

Into  the  tempest  and  glare  flowed  a  slender  minor 
strain  of  unearthly  sweetness  —  a  stealing  sun-ray 
through  the  black  heart  of  the  cloud.  Before  it  blast 
and  surges  rolled  away  into  horizon  mutterings.  The 
voice  took  up  the  story  in  a  passionate  undertone : 

"  '  "  And  fear'st  thou  ?"  "  And  fear'st  tfiou  ?" 
And  seest  thou — and  hear'st  thou  ? 
And  drive  we  not  free 
O'er  the  terrible  sea — 
I  and  thou? 

"  '  One  boat-cloak  doth  cover 
The  loved  and  the  lover — 
Their  blood  beats  one  measure, 
They  murmur  proud  pleasure, 
Soft  and  low, 


250  JUDITH: 

"  '  While  'round  the  lashed  ocean, 
Like  mountains  in  motion, 
Is  withdrawn  and  uplifted, 
Sunk,  shattered  and  shifted 
To  and  fro.'" 

To  the  ineffable  tenderness  of  the  recitative,  the 
dreamy  lingering  upon  the  melodious  measure  of  verse 
and  music,  succeeded  heroic  narration : 

"  '  In  the  court  of  the  fortress, 
Beside  the  pale  portress, 
Like  a  bloodhound  well  beaten, 
The  bridegroom  stands,  eaten 
By  shame. 

"  '  On  the  topmost  watch-turret, 
As  a  death-boding  spirit, 
Stands  the  gray  tyrant-father — 
To  his  voice  the  mad  weather 
Seems  tame ; 

"  '  And  with  curses  as  wild 
As  e'er  cling  to  child, 
He  devotes  to  the  blast 
The  best,  loveliest  and  last 
Of  his  name  !'  " 

There  were  specks  like  dew  on  the  Major's  grizzled 
lashes.  He  laughed  outright,  but  brokenly,  as  the 
story  was  finished. 

"  But  he  got  her,  in  spite  of  bridegroom  and  father  ! 
The  young  folks  got  away  safe  and  sound  !  By  George  ! 
I  never  heard  anything  finer  in  my  life  !  I  could  see  it 
all — the  storm  and  the  courtship  in  the  boat,  and  the 
pair  of  scoundrels  gnashing  their  teeth  on  the  tower  ! 
My  dear  sir,"  dropping  a  heavy  hand  on  the  guest's 
shoulder,  "you  have  given  us  a  rare  treat — a  wonderful 
treat !  And  let  me  say  that  if  the  fellow  in  the  boat 
said  those  pretty  things  to  the  lady  as  you  sang  them, 
she  could  not  have  stayed  behind !  Not  to  save  her 
life,  sir  !  human  nature  and  woman  nature  being  what 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          251 

it  is  !  Who  wrote  it  did  you  say  ?  Shelley  ?  Never 
heard  of  him  that  I  recollect,  but  he  is  no  fool  of  a 
song-writer.  Virginia,  my  dear,  put  his  name  down  for 
me,  will  you  ?  Do  you  know  anything  else  of  his,  Mr. 
Waring  ?" 

"  Something  sentimental,  please,  Mr.  Waring  ?"  qua- 
vered Mrs.  Dabney's  drawl.  "I  know  you  would  sing 
love-songs  be-yw-tifully  if  the  truth  were  told.  Did  Mr. 
Shelby  ever  write  any  love-songs  ?  I  dote  upon  love- 
songs,  if  I  am  an  old  married  woman.  I  always  cry  my 
eyes  out  over  '  Highland  Mary  '  and '  Auld  Robin  Gray' 
and  'Lord  Ullin's  Daughter,'  the  song  you  have  just 
sung  so  delightfully  and  thrown  us  all  into  ecstacies 
with,  I  am  sure,  for  nobody  can  enjoy  really  good  music 
more  than  we,  and  you  are  certainly  a  musical  genius, 
Mr.  Waring,  reminds  me  of  'Lord  Ullin's  Daughter,' 
the  words,  I  mean,  for  there  's  no  manner  of  comparison 
between  the  music  of  the  two,  and  a  man  with  such 
melancholy  eyes  as  yours  and  such  a  voice  ought  to  be 
able  to  just  break  our  hearts  with  a  love-song." 

Mr.  Waring  laughed  a  little  in  a  perfectly  well-bred 
way,  dropping  the  bepraised  eyes  to  his  fingers  that 
still  lay  on  the  keys. 

"I  doubt  if  I  could  recall  a  sentimental  ballad, 
madam.  It  has  been  a  long  time  since  I  heard  or  sang 
one." 

He  turned  again  to  Miss  Harry.  She  had  taken 
a  seat  at  an  easier  conversational  angle  to  the  piano 
than  that  occupied  by  either  of  the  other  ladies.  It 
was  but  natural  that  he  should  refer  to  her  in  his 
perplexity. 

"  There  is  a  little  serenade  of  Shelley's,  beginning, 
'  I  arise  from  dreams  of  thee. '  Have  you  ever  heard  it  ?" 

"  Never.     Cannot  you  sing  it  ?" 

"Do  !  do  !"  clucked  Mrs.  Dabney,  persuasively.   " It 


252  JUDITH: 

must  be  just  perfectly  fascinating.  I  am  devoted  to 
love-songs ;  they  can't  be  too  loving  for  me ;  the 
lovinger  the  sweeter,  according  to  my  notion." 

The  accompaniment  of  the  "  Serenade  "  was  a  mere 
nothing,  the  touch  of  a  chord  here  and  there,  as  one 
might  sweep  his  finger  over  guitar-strings  ;  but  no  more 
was  needed.  I  think  Harry  Macon's  heart  left  the 
keeping  of  will  and  reason  forever,  while  that  song 
flowed  into  her  ears.  Her  perceptive  powers  were  never 
clear  afterward.  It  wrought  more  potently  upon  affec- 
tions and  judgment  than  did  ever  philtre  or  love-spell 
in  the  age  when  witches  gave  and  maidens  sought  such. 
If  it  were  poison  it  was  a  delicious  draught  as  this  man 
administered  it,  his  glorious  eyes  like  brown  opals  with 
throbbing  light,  his  voice  impassioned,  supplicating — 
and  at  the  last,  faint  with  the  burden  of  a  love  not  to 
be  conveyed  in  speech  or  sound  : 

"  '  I  arise  from  dreams  of  thee, 

In  the  first  sweet  sleep  of  night, 
When  the  winds  are  breathing  low 

And  the  stars  are  shining  bright. 
I  arise  from  dreams  of  thee, 

And  a  spirit  in  my  feet 
Has  led  me — who  knows  how  ? — 

To  thy  chamber-window,  sweet ! 

"  '  The  wandering  airs,  they  faint, 

On  the  dark,  the  silent  stream, — 
The  roses'  odors  fail, 

Like  sweet  thoughts  in  a  dream. 
The  nightingale's  complaint, 

It  dies  upon  her  heart, 
As  I  must  die  on  thine, 

Oh,  beloved  as  thou  art !'  " 

I  cannot  more  aptly  describe  the  strange  change  that 
swept  over  Miss  Harry's  figure  and  face  as  the  line  I 
have  italicized  was  uttered  than  by  saying  that  it  was 
like  the  quiver  and  play,  first,  of  white,  then  of  roseate 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         253 

lambent  flame  in  which  she  swayed  and  glowed.  Her 
eyes  closed  for  a  second,  and  opened  to  their  widest,  in 
fascinated  intentness  of  gaze  that  met  the  rapt  look  of 
the  singer.  Eyes  questioned  and  eyes  replied,  before 
the  few  chords  of  the  interlude  ceased  to  vibrate  : 

"  '  Oh,  lift  me  from  the  grass  ! 

I  die,  I  faint,  I  fail ! 
Let  thy  love  in  kisses  rain 

On  my  lips  and  eyelids  pale ! 
My  cheek  is  cold  and  white,  alas  ! 

My  heart  beats  loud  and  fast. 
Oh,  press  it  close  to  thine  again, 

Where  it  will  break  at  last !'  " 

The  sorcerer  arose,  crossed  over  to  Mrs.  Dabney  and 
made  his  adieux,  with  thanks  for  her  "great  kindness 
to  an  undeserving  stranger  in  a  strange  land." 

"Oh,  but  look  here  !"  cried  the  Major,  taken  aback 
by  the  sudden  movement.  "You  ain't  going  to  leave 
us  this  way,  you  know  !  You  '11  be  in  town  some  days 
yet,  I  hope.  I  mean  that  it  ain't  likely  that  the — ah — 
ah—" 

Mr.  "Waring  covered  the  awkward  pause,  at  which  he 
smiled,  and  the  rest  were  mortified. 

There  was  even  a  touch  of  archness  in  his  amuse- 
ment, repressed  by  courtesy,  but  his  voice  was  gravely 
respectful. 

"  The  company  moves  westward  to-morrow.  I  have 
a  furlough  of  two  weeks.  I  had  thought — I  may  say  it 
to  you,  Major  Dabney,  whose  treatment  of  me  has  been 
so  noble  in  its  freedom  from  prejudice  and  patronage — 
that  I  have  hopes  of  shortly  effecting  a  dissolution  of 
my  relations  with  my  present  associates.  In  short — I 
mean  to  break  my  contract  with  the  circus  company. 
My  false  position  has  grown  very  irksome  of  late." 

The  Major  clapped  him  on  the  shoulder  again. 

"Of  course  it  has!     How  could  it  be  otherwise? 


254  JUDITH: 

You  've  had  your  frolic,  and  now  for  a  return  to  your 
real  self  and  civilization !  You  are  quite  right,  my 
dear  sir — quite  right !  And  let  me  say  that  I  hope 
you  '11  prolong  your  stay  in  Richmond  indefinitely,  and 
examine  our  institutions  and  all  that,  you  know,  and 
let  us  see  as  much  of  you  as  possible  and  convenient 
to  yourself.  By  George !  I  honor  your  honesty  and 
straightforwardness,  sir  !  Be  blamed  if  I  don't !  As 
for  prejudice  and  patronage  and  gossip,  I  don't  care  a 
Continental  blank  for  all  three !" 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

"  I  AM  sure  that  father  is  boring  Mr.  Waring  with  his 
endless  genealogies,"  said  Miss  Virginia,  quitting  the 
window  where  she  and  Mr.  Bradley  had  been  standing 
in  the  rainy  twilight.  "  Sweetbrier,  go  into  the  study 
and  see  if  I  left  '  Thomson's  Seasons  '  on  the  table — 
there  's  a  darling !" 

Obediently,  but  less  cheerfully  than  I  usually  ful- 
filled her  behests,  I  repaired  to  the  Major's  den.  He  had 
lighted  a  candle  and  raised  it  high  in  one  hand  toward 
the  family  coat-of-arms  over  the  mantel.  In  the  other 
he  held  the  bowl  of  his  pipe,  and  pointed  with  the  long 
handle  while  discoursing : 

"  The  first  record  we  have  of  the  Dabney  family  is  on 
the  roll  of  Battle  Abbey,  erected  by  William  the  Con- 
queror at  Hastings  when  he  defeated  Harold.  Masses 
were  sung  for  the  souls  of  the  knights  and  squires  who 
fell  there.  One  of  the  knights  is  'D'Aubenay,'  and 
among  the  squires  is  another  'D'Aubenay.'  Baron 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         255 

'  D'Aubigny  '  was  one  of  the  bold,  true  men  set  to  watch 
tricky  King  John,  lest  he  might  violate  Magna  Charta. 
My  immediate  ancestors,  John  and  Cornelius  '  Dabnee  ' 
(it  is  thus  spelled  in  the  old  vestry-book  of  New  Kent 
County),  fled  from  France  to  Wales  after  the  revoca- 
tion of  the  Edict  of  Nantz,  thence  emigrated  to  Amer- 
ica. They  were  among  the  Huguenots  who  settled  on 
the  lower  Pamunkey —  My  dear  Miss  Judith,  can  I 
assist  you  in  your  search  ?" 

I  was  fumbling  among  the  newspapers,  tobacco- 
boxes,  twine,  corks,  pipes  and  account-books  on  the 
table  in  the  centre  of  the  room. 

"Miss  Virginia  sent  me  to  look  for  '  Thomson's  Sea- 
sons,' sir,"  I  apologized  diffidently. 

"Ah!"  setting  down  the  candle.  "Another  more 
considerable  body  of  refugees  settled  on  the  south  side 
of  James  River,  near  the  deserted  capital  of  the  Mano- 
can  tribe,  now  perverted  into  'Mannakin  Town.'  The 
Colonial  House  of  Burgesses,  held  '  at  his  majestye's 
royall  colledge  of  William  and  Mary,'  December  5th, 
1700,  established  the  settlement  as  'King  William's 
Parish,'  exempting  'said  French  refugees'  from  taxa- 
tion for  seven  years.  Among  these  were  the  Michaux 
— still  resident  on  the  original  grant — the  Flournoys, 
Soublettes  (now  Subletts),  the  Maurys —  Never  mind 
the  almanac,  my  dear,"  as  I  stooped  to  pick  it  up. 
"  Can't  you  find  the  book  ?" 

I  colored  all  over.  It  seemed  sacrilegious  to  break 
twice  the  continuity  of  so  learned  a  disquisition.  Mr. 
Waring  came  forward  while  the  Major  helped  me  to 
tumble  over  the  tobacco-and-coal-dusty  miscellany. 

"I  saw  that  volume  in  the  parlor  this  evening,"  said 
the  Englishman  respectfully.  "  I  fancy  that  I  can  put 
my  hand  on  it  at  once.  Will  you  excuse  me,  Major 
Dabney,  but  allow  me  to  return  after  a  while  and  hear 


256  JUDITH: 

the  rest  of  the  history  you  have  begun  ?  It  is  deeply 
interesting." 

"  I  am  sorry,  sir,"  faltered  I,  as  the  guest  disappeared 
and  I  caught  the  blank  look  on  the  dear,  kind  face  of 
the  genealogist. 

"Don't  speak  of  it,  my  child — don't  speak  of  it !  It 
is  time  I  had  my  smoke,  and  I  am  apt  to  forget  that  old 
people  make  themselves  tiresome  with  their  hobbies." 

He  let  me  fill  his  pipe  and  light  it  with  a  twisted 
paper  kindled  at  the  grate,  puffed  away  the  shade  of 
chagrin  with  the  first  blue  curl  of  smoke,  like  the  sound- 
tempered  philosopher  he  was.  I  placed  a  stool  under 
his  gouty  foot,  and  offered  the  freshest  of  the  news- 
papers as  a  substitute  for  the  fascinating  visitor,  un- 
easily trying  to  atone  for  my  complicity  in  his  daughter's 
maneuver.  Much  as  I  admired  the  pretty  adroitness 
with  which  she  avoided  giving  present  pain  and  offense, 
my  Summerfield  honesty  revolted  occasionally  at  the 
palpable  double-dealing  I  could  not  but  espy.  She  was 
tactful  and  a  peace-lover,  and  had  to  deal  with  incon- 
gruous elements.  Furthermore,  she  was  affectionate 
and  tender-hearted.  In  shrinking  from  the  sight  of 
suffering,  she  sometimes  recoiled  too  far.  This  is  the 
excuse  reason  and  heart  now  combine  to  make  for  what 
then  distressed  and  baffled  me. 

She  was  at  the  piano  when  I  went  back  to  the  parlor, 
playing  softly  one  plaintive  air  after  another,  Mr.  Brad- 
ley breathing  a  flute  accompaniment,  deliciously  and 
delicately  sweet,  although  scarcely  louder  than  the 
rain-muffled  wind  plaining  disquietly  at  sash  and  in 
chimney.  The  two  young  men  had  dined  with  us,  and 
the  close  of  the  short,  wet  afternoon  found  both  linger- 
ing in  the  hospitable  mansion.  It  was  the  third  of  such 
March  days  as  strike  with  dismay  spring  visitors  to 
Richmond.  There  had  not  been  a  rift  in  the  sagging 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          257 

i 

pall  of  cloud  from  sunrise  to  sunset.  Brick  sidewalks 
and  cobble-stone  pavements  were  glazed  by  sheets  of 
rain  that  succeeding  floods  did  not  give  time  to  run  off, 
The  muddy  street  into  which  Miss  Harry,  seated  on  the 
broad  window-bench,  seemed  to  gaze,  was  almost  de- 
serted. The  oil-lamps,  accentuating  the  darkness  of 
business  thoroughfares,  were  not  visible  from  our  quar- 
ter of  the  town.  The  dots  and  dashes  of  nickering  yel- 
low one  saw  through  mist  and  rain  were  in  the  windows 
of  private  dwellings.  Once  in  a  great  while  a  figure 
tramped  by,  furnished  with  umbrella  and  lantern.  I 
coiled  myself  up  in  another  window  to  watch  idly  for 
these,  to  listen  to  the  music,  and  to  dream  out  the 
stories  that  made  one  long,  eventful  romance  of  my 
sober-tinted  child-life. 

The  widening  area  of  fire-glow,  the  outermost  edge  of 
which  struck  glints  from  the  silver  keys  of  Mr.  Brad- 
ley's  flute,  and  brushed  the  sheeny  waves  of  the  pianist's 
hair  ;  the  monotonous  plash  of  the  rain  on  the  panes  ; 
the  proximity  of  the  pair  who  occupied  the  embrasure 
of  the  window  nearest  to  me  ;  the  intermittent  drifts  of 
earnest-voiced  talk  blent  with  the  melody  of  "  Oft  in 
the  Stilly  Night,"  "Has  Sorrow  Thy  Young  Days 
Shaded  ?"  and  "  Byron's  Farewell,"  were  conditions  to 
the  full  enjoyment  of  twilight  revery. 

Mr.  Waring's  furlough  would  be  over  in  two  days. 
With  the  tact  that  seldom  failed  him,  he  had  not  ap- 
peared abroad  with  the  Dabneys,  or  done  anything  else 
that  could  attract  public  attention  to  his  growing  inti- 
macy in  the  family.  Twice,  when  other  visitors  had 
called  while  he  was  in  the  parlor,  he  had  quietly  with- 
drawn to  the  Major's  study,  and  talked  with  him  until 
the  coast  was  clear.  "With  Mr.  Bradley  he  made  friends 
within  twenty-four  hours  after  his  first  visit  to  the 
house.  They  walked  and  drove  together  every  fair  day, 


258  JUDITH: 

and  the  quick-witted  tutor  was  apparently  as  much  cap- 
tivated by  his  new  acquaintance  as  was  the  whole-souled 
Major.  Both  regarded  the  episode  of  his  introduction 
to  our  domestic  circle  as  a  romantic  incident,  the  conse- 
quences of  which  would  extend  no  farther  than  the 
limits  of  his  sojourn  in  the  city,  unless,  in  the  event  of 
the  prodigal's  return  to  his  English  home,  the  news 
should  reach  his  trans- Atlantic  friends  and  be  a  staple 
of  family  gossip  in  coming  years.  That  he  talked  much 
with  Miss  Harry  went  for  nothing  with  people  accus- 
tomed to  see  her  the  recipient  of  admiring  attention 
from  every  man  who  approached  her.  She  was  a  belle 
in  town,  as  in  country,  and  tokens  of  the  fact  were 
every  day  arriving  in  the  shape  of  graceful  trifles — 
philopena  gifts  of  books  and  bon-bons,  and  votive  offer- 
ings of  flowers.  Twice  I  had  seen  her  extract  from 
the  hearts  of  bouquets  brought  up  by  Apphia  to  her 
room  twisted  billets,  which  she  reserved  for  private 
perusal.  One  morning  the  maid  returned  from  an  out- 
door errand  with  a  parcel  done  up  in  silver  paper  and 
gave  it  to  her  young  mistress,  without  observing  my 
presence.  Instinctively  I  kept  my  eyes  riveted  on  my 
book,  apparently  regardless  of  the  violet  scent  that  filled 
the  chamber,  until  Miss  Harry  spoke  : 

"  See  what  I  have,  Little  Discretion  !" 

It  was  a  dainty  white  satin  box,  clamped  at  the  cor- 
ners with  gilded  ornaments,  and  full  of  violets.  A  note 
had  lain  upon  them,  and  she  still  held  it  in  her  hand. 
As  I  praised  and  wondered  at  the  quantity  and  fresh- 
ness of  the  flowers,  she  laid  her  cheek  on  them,  her 
bright  smile  chastened  into  infinite  content.  I  stood  by, 
mute  and  awed,  my  heart  overflowing  with  sympathy. 

Apphia  broke  in  upon  the  eloquent  silence  sharply, 
even  for  a  privileged  and  spoiled  servant. 

"  'Tain't  safe  to  tell  cliild'en  sech  things,  Miss  Harry  1 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          259 

They  mean  well  enough,  but  they  can't  be  expected  to 
understand." 

"  I  can  trust  Judith  !"  meeting  my  hurt  look  with  one 
of  affectionate  reassurance.  "  She  will  not  speak  until 
I  give  her  leave  to  do  so.  She  knows  I  am  doing  no- 
thing to  be  ashamed  of— nothing  I  shall  not  be  glad  to 
have  the  world  know  by-and-by.  But  I  won't  be  talked 
about  and  marveled  at  until  the  time  comes.  Oh, 
yes !" — fondling  my  flushed  face  and  speaking  very 
softly — "  Judith  quite  understands  !  Better — so  much 
better — than  most  grown  people  would  !" 

It  was  child-nature  to  be  immensely  elated  by  the 
confidence  reposed  in  me.  Albeit  utterly  unsophisti- 
cated in  intrigue,  discretion  was,  as  I  have  already  said, 
a  lesson  conned  from  my  earliest  recollection.  I  did 
not  suspect  that  there  was  more  impropriety  in  Miss 
Harry's  reception  of  billet-doux  from  the  elect  lord  of 
her  dream  than  in  Uncle  Archie's  careful  conservation 
of  the  secret  of  his  love  for  Virginia  Dabney.  I  was 
the  flattered  recipient  of  the  confidence  of  both,  and 
would  have  had  my  tongue  plucked  out  by  the  roots 
sooner  than  betray  either. 

Painted  upon  the  background  of  the  rainy  darkness 
toward  which  I  kept  my  face  resolutely  turned,  lest  I 
might  see  some  gesture  or  penetrate  the  meaning  ot 
some  word  not  meant  for  others'  senses,  I  beheld  the 
American  girl  the  honored  mistress  of  Fairwold  Hall, 
the  idolized  wife  of  the  man  made  for  her  and  led  over 
ocean  and  land  and  the  Alps  of  social  prejudice  to  her 
feet.  I  arranged  the  wedding  at  Hunter's  Eest,  with 
Aunt  Maria  and  Miss  Virginia  among  the  white-robed 
troop  of  bridesmaids,  Uncle  Archie  and  Mr.  Bradley  as 
groomsmen,  a  shading  of  disappointed  suitors  relieving 
the  almost  too-bright  vision  of  the  princely  pair  and 
their  rejoicing  train.  I  saw  my  hitherto  insignifi- 


260  JUDITH: 

cant  self  lauded  as  a  pattern  of  intelligent  prudence, 
the  ally  of  the  lovers,  the  petted  favorite  of  the  nuptial 
day.  Perhaps — most  probably — they  would  invite  me 
to  visit  them  in  the  ancestral  halls  of  the  Warings. 
Why  might  not  Uncle  Archie  include  an  ocean  voyage 
and  Fairwold  Hall  in  his  wedding  journey,  and  I  ac- 
company the  happy  couple  ? 

Between  rain,  piano  and  preoccupation  of  thought, 
none  of  us  heard  the  door-bell  or  the  bustle  of  arrival 
in  the  hall.  I  was  hurled  back  from  my  dream-world 
with  a  shock  that  produced  temporary  concussion  of 
the  brainy  by  the  apparition — in  the  fullest  glare  of  the 
light  that  had  gradually  filled  the  room  from  the  ignit- 
ing coals — of  Uncle  Archie  and  Sidney  Macon. 

I  could  not  stir,  or  determine  whether  the  feet, 
numbed  by  long  sitting  upon  them,  and  the  eyes,  filmed 
by  the  abrupt  change  from  the  stare  into  the  blackening 
night  to  the  ruddy  illumination  within,  really  belonged 
to  myself  or  not,  until  Uncle  Archie  kissed  me  with  the 
familiar — 

"  Well,  little  woman !  how  goes  it  ?" 

I  clung  to  him  when  he  sat  down  and  began  to  tell 
that  some  business  connected  with  tobacco  crop  and 
sales  had  called  them  to  the  city.  In  the  middle  of  the 
explanation  the  Major  hobbled  in  upon  the  gouty  leg 
that  was  stiff  in  wet  weather — and  a  minute  later  Mrs. 
Dabney,  pink  cap-strings  flying  and  tongue  wabbling 
more  loosely  than  usual  on  the  pivotal  point  of  common 
sense,  in  the  excitement  of  meeting  dear  Mr.  Read  and 
darling  Harry's  brother,  and  there  certainly  was  such 
a  strong  family  likeness  that  she  would  have  known  him 
anywhere — if  she  had  met  him  at  Rockett's,  or  say,  the 
great  Chinese  Wall,  she  would  have  run  right  straight 
up  to  him  and  said,  "  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Macon  ?" 

By  the  time  we  were  seated,  and  the  ceremony  of 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          261 

presentation  was  accomplished,  and  Mrs.  Dabney's 
prattle-wheel  was  slowing  up  preparatory  to  as  full  a 
stop  as  she  ever  made,  it  began  to  dawn  on  me,  and,  I 
fancy,  on  others,  that  Sidney  Macon's  mien  was  ominous 
of  trouble.  He  was  habitually  grave,  but  to-night  he 
looked  as  inclement  as  the  weather.  In  opposition  to 
the  conventional  courtesy  prevalent  among  Virginian 
gentlemen,  he  did  not  shake  hands  with  Mr.  "Waring 
when  presented  to  him  by  Miss  Virginia,  nor  had  he 
smiled  at  Mrs.  Dabney's  welcome.  The  butler  brought 
in  lamps  and  revealed  the  dark  face,  grim  to  ferocity, 
the  deep-set  eyes  like  gleaming  embers  that  a  breath 
might  excite  into  flame.  Miss  Harry  pushed  a  chair 
forward,  and  Mr.  "Waring,  anticipating  her  intention, 
set  it  near  her  brother's  for  her  before  sa3ring  : 

"  I  have  added  another  to  the  list  of  my  trespasses  on 
your  hospitality,  Mrs.  Dabney.  I  ought  to  have  taken 
my  leave  much  earlier  than  this.  But  your  always- 
pleasant  home  is  doubly  tempting  on  such  an  evening." 

He  delivered  the  little  speech  distinctly,  making  his 
slight  English  drawl  and  upward  inflections  rather 
more  apparent  than  was  common  with  him.  Sidney 
did  not  rise,  but  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  aggressively 
uncivil,  his  gaze  settled  on  the  superbly-handsome  linea- 
ments in  angry  scorn,  not  to  be  ignored  by  the  sister 
familiar  with  his  ordinary  behavior. 

Her  eyes  kindled,  her  lip  curled  resolutely.  She  took 
a  step  forward  to  meet  Mr.  "Waring,  as  he  made  his 
bow  to  her — put  out  her  hand. 

""We  shall  see  you  again  very  soon,  I  hope  !"  articu- 
lating as  clearly  as  he  had  done.  "  I  want  yoTi  to  know 
my  brother.  I  might  say,  with  truth,  both  of  my  broth- 
ers!" shedding  milder  light  upon  Uncle  Archie,  who 
stood  by  her. 

Tone  and  manner,  if  not  words,  were  unequivocal. 


262  JUDITH: 

A  strange  shock  and  silence  fell  upon  the  little  company 
at  the  quietly  significant  address.  I  saw  Miss  Virginia 
change  color  and  clasp  her  hands  convulsively,  Mr. 
Brad  ley's  start  and  piercing  glance  at  Miss  Harry. 
Uncle  Archie  bowed  silently — to  her,  not  to  him  for 
whom  she  bespoke  his  good-will.  Sidney  sat  motionless 
and  glowered  wrathfully  at  the  three.  Mr.  Waring 
bent  low  over  the  hand  shut  fast  and  warm  in  his. 

"  I  am  honored  beyond  my  powers  of  expression  by 
the  hope  and  the  wish  !  Good-night  I" 

He  stepped  backward  to  the  door  with  courtly  dex- 
terity ;  on  the  threshold,  swept  a  magnificent  general 
obeisance  to  the  rest  of  the  group,  and  was  gone. 

Sidney  started  up  hastily,  spoke  harshly  : 

"  Harry  I  I  want  to  have  a  few  minutes'  talk  with 
you  !" 

"As  you  please!"  she  rejoined,  undauntedly.  To 
Mrs.  Dabney,  she  said,  with  winning  politeness,  "May 
we  go  into  your  sitting-room  ?" 

On  receiving  a  frightened,  therefore  a  tolerably  co- 
herent reply,  she  led  the  way  across  the  hall. 

Before  bed-time,  we  all  knew  what  was  the  result  of 
the  conference. 

At  the  Columbian  Hotel,  where  the  travelers  halted 
to  put  up  their  horses  and  exchange  their  damp  gar- 
ments for  dry,  Sidney  had  met  his  friend  Ronald  Craig, 
Miss  Harry's  oft-discarded  suitor.  He  had  been  in 
'  town  several  days,  paid  a  diurnal  call  to  his  obdurate 
idol,  twice  encountered  Mr.  Waring,  and  uneasy  at 
what  he  fancied  he  detected,  made  it  his  business  to 
find  out  who  the  obnoxious  stranger  was.  Chancing  to 
stumble  upon  Sidney  as  the  latter  was  following  a  waiter 
to  his  room  within  ten  minutes  after  his  arrival,  he  fas- 
tened himself  upon  him  and  besought  an  interview.  In 
the  course  of  his  rapid  toilet  Sidney  heard  that  which 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         263 

made  him  forget  cold,  wet,  hunger  and  fatigue.  He 
was  collected  enough  to  make  due  allowance  for  the 
jealous  alarms  of  the  unsuccessful  wooer  and  his  never- 
acute  brain,  but  he  gleaned  from  the  dialogue  one  and  a 
most  disagreeable  truth. 

His  sister  was  a  guest  in  a  house  where  a  worse  than 
nobody — a  common  circus-rider — was  received  as  the 
equal  of  a  family  so  simple  as  to  be  duped  by  his  poor  pre- 
tense of  aristocratic  lineage  and  breeding.  She  had  sat 
at  the  same  board  with  him,  conversed  with  him  with 
apparent  satisfaction,  and  hearkened  delightedly  to  his 
playing  and  singing.  Sidney  could  not  forbear  allusion 
to  his  discovery  as  he  and  Uncle  Archie  walked  up  town 
and  was  laughed  at  for  his  indignation. 

"I  know  Miss  Harry  better  than  to  insult  her  by 
such  suspicions  as  the  fear  lest  she  should  lower  her 
dignity  by  familiar  association  with  the  person  you  de- 
scribe," said  Harry's  fast  friend,  picking  his  way  over 
the  puddles  and  miry  crossings.  "Major  Dabney  is  a 
thorough  gentleman.  His  daughter's  friend  would  be 
as  carefully  protected  from  undesirable  acquaintances  as 
his  own  child.  Depend  upon  it,  poor  Ronald  has  been 
hoaxed,  or  is  misled  by  his  own  dreads.  It  is  more  like 
your  sister  to  feign  preference  for  another  man  in  order 
to  get  rid  of  his  importunities  than  to  form  an  attach- 
ment for  a  nameless  adventurer." 

The  unshuttered  parlor-windows  were  crimson  bea- 
cons of  cheer  to  them  from  the  instant  they  caught  sight 
of  the  house.  When  they  were  at  the  gate  of  the  nar- 
row front-yard  the  interior  of  the  room  was  a  Rem- 
brandt picture  in  the  light  from  the  blazing  coals  in  the 
grate.  Both  recognized  one  of  the  figures  in  the  strik- 
ing tableaux  framed  by  the  illuminated  window  — 
Harry's  lissome  figure  and  high-bred  profile,  and  lean- 
ing toward  her  a  man  evidently  earnest  in  talk.  Both 


264  JUDITH: 

saw  him  raise  her  hand  to  his  lips  in  a  passionate  pres- 
sure unchecked,  and  so  far  as  could  be  judged  from  the 
expression  of  the  beautiful  head,  unrebuked.  It  was 
not  a  scene  for  a  man  like  Sidney  Macon  to  discuss  with 
his  dearest  friend.  Neither  uttered  a  word  until  Sid- 
ney's deep  voice  inquired  of  the  servant  who  answered 
his  ring,  if  "the  ladies  and  Major  Dabney  were  at 
home?" 

His  iritemperate  remonstrance  with  his  sister  was 
met  by  an  avowal  that  stung  him  into  a  frenzy  of  as- 
tonishment and  wrath.  The  disreputable  adventurer 
had  that  very  hour  declared  his  love  for  her  and  received 
a  favorable  reply.  Their  mutual  devotion  dated  from 
the  moment  of  their  first  meeting.  Each  had  dreamed 
of  the  other  before  they^  had  ever  looked  upon  one  an- 
other's faces.  She  would  be  willing  to  marry  him  with- 
out other  testimonials  to  his  worth  and  character  than 
she  already  possessed.  The  proposition  to  procure  cre- 
dentials from  England  was  his  voluntary  suggestion. 

The  stormy  scene  ensuing  upon  the  astounding  dis- 
closure was  ended  by  Sidney's  departure  from  the  house 
without  the  slightest  form  of  leave-taking.  Those  left 
in  the  parlor  heard  his  tramp  along  the  hall,  the  violent 
reverberation  of  the  closing  door,  and  had  barely  time 
to  exchange  alarmed  glances  when  Harry  walked  into 
the  apartment,  head  high,  and  face  like  marble  in  color 
and  steadfastness. 

"My  brother  has  gone,  Mrs.  Dabney!"  she  began 
with  haughty  incisiveness  that  prepared  her  auditors 
fora  momentous  announcement.  "He  was  too  much 
excited  to  venture  to  say  '  Good-evening,'  or  even  to 
remember  the  commonest  forms  of  courtesy.  He  sees 
fit  to  be  very  angry  with  me  because  I  am  engaged  to  be 
married  to  Mr.  Waring  !" 

Then,  as  a  gasp  from  Mrs.  Dabney  and  a  growl  from 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          265 

the  Major  severed  the  fine,  strong  thread  of  her  speech 
— "  Not  that  his  opposition,  or  that  of  the  whole  Macon 
clan,  combined  with  the  anathemas  of  Christendom, 
would  alter  one  jot  or  one  tittle  of  my  resolution.  If 
John  Waring  lives,  and  I  live,  I  shall  become  his  wife 
whenever  he  sees  best  to  claim  me — so  help  me — God  !" 
The  hand  lifted  in  the  energy  of  the  declaration  fell  on 
the  great  Bible  lying  on  the  centre-table,  and  rested  there. 

Mrs.  Dabney  promptly  did  all  that  could  be  expected 
of  her  on  the  occasion  by  going  into  strong  hysterics. 
Her  sobbings,  pantings,  struggles  and  suffocations  in 
the  arms  of  the  Major  and  Uncle  Archie  while  they 
carried  her  to  her  chamber,  her  kicks  against  the  wall 
and  clutchings  at  the  banisters  of  the  stairs,  the 
shrieks  of  wild  laughter  that  pierced  the  ceiling  when 
the  removal  was  accomplished,  were  terrific  to  a  child 
who  had  never  so  much  as  heard  of  nervous  parox- 
ysms and  fashionable  "  vapors."  I  slunk  away  behind 
a  window-curtain,  and  cried  big,  honest  tears  of  dis- 
tressful compassion,  with  none  to  see  or  dry  them. 

"I  had  better  go,"  Mr.  Bradley  said  aside  to  Miss 
Virginia. 

She  stayed  him  by  a  gesture,  then  sank  upon  an  otto- 
man, and  wept  silently,  her  face  buried  in  her  handker- 
chief. Harry  stood  like  a  statue  of  Kesolve  when  Uncle 
Archie  returned  to  us.  He  went  directly  up  to  her,  laid 
his  hand  on  that  pressed  hard  on  the  Bible-lid. 

"  None  of  us  are  quite  calm  enough  for  argument  to- 
night," he  said,  very  gravely  and  very  kindly.  "We 
are  taken  by  surprise,  and  must  think  over  what  we 
have  heard  before  we  are  fit  to  decide  as  to  the  merits 
of  the  case  you  submit  to  us.  You  ought  not  to  need 
to  be  told  that  the  one  desire  of  us  all  is  for  your  hap- 
piness. That,  if  we  could  congratulate  you  intelli- 
gently and  sincerely,  we  would  do  it  now  and  gladly." 


266  JUDITH: 

Her  chin  trembled,  but  the  closer  compression  of  the 
lips,  the  unblenching  eye  told  how  far  she  was  from 
yielding. 

"  I  have  had  a  foretaste  of  friendly  congratulations  in 
Sidney's  fraternal  comments  upon  what  I  told  him  I" 
was  the  curt  rejoinder. 

"  Try  to  think  kindly  of  the  brother  who  loves  you 
best  of  living  things  !"  went  on  the  serious  tones.  "  By 
to-morrow  he  may  be  more  reasonable." 

"Why  not  add,  'And  so  may  you?'  I  read  it  in 
your  face.  Don't  delude  yourself  into  the  belief  that  I 
will  ever  swerve.  I  have  sworn  unto  the  Lord  and  will 
not  go  back  1" 

"I  have  not  asked  you  to  retract  one  word.  If  I  had 
prophesied  that  to-morrow  would  find  you  reasonable, 
I  should  have  spoken  out  my  own  belief.  You  are  right 
there.  When  have  you  been  unreasonable  to  me?" 

He  was  smiling — the  frank,  genial  gleam  that  always 
met  her  sallies,  as  she  raised  her  eyes  suddenly  to  his — 
brotherly  and  compassionate  of  her  present  pain,  with 
no  subtler  intent  than  to  assuage  this.  The  rigid  face- 
lines  broke  up  in  an  answering  smile. 

"  If  all  men  were  like  you — "  she  began  impatiently. 

He  finished  the  sentence  laughingly : 

"  You  would  have  a  host  of  true  friends,  and  never 
hesitate  to  say  '  No  ! '  to  any  of  them  who  presumed  to 
be  more  than  friendly  !" 

"  I  meant  no  such  thing  !  The  woman  who  hesitates 
to  intrust  her  happiness  to  your  keeping  is  a  benighted 
imbecile  !  One  proof  of  this  is  that  I  dare  declare  that 
to  your  face  without  fear  of  a  gallant  reply.  What  I 
began  to  say  was  that  if  all  men  were  like  you,  it 
would  be  easier  for  us  to  act  like  reasonable  beings. 
There  would  be  some  hope  of  just  and  merciful  treat- 
ment at  the  hands  of  our  masters.  But,  as  you  say, 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          267 

discussion  of  the  news  I  have  been  forced  to  communi- 
cate more  abruptly  than  is  timely  or  delicate,  had  better 
be  deferred  until  to-morrow.  Excuse  me  for  a  little 
while,  please,  all  of  you  !  I  have  been  flayed  alive,  and 
the  smart  is  still  fresh  !" 

Mrs.  Dabney  was  unable  to  appear  at  supper.  The 
perturbed  Major  had  hauled  Uncle  Archie  off  to  the 
study  as  soon  as  he  could  leave  his  distraught  spouse, 
and  kept  him  there  until  the  meal  was  announced.  Mr. 
Bradley  and  Miss  Virginia  talked  long  and  confiden- 
tially over  the  parlor  fire.  I,  too  low  and  miserable  to 
rest  quietly,  roamed  about  passages  and  staircase,  con- 
scious that  there  was  no  place  for  me  and  for  my  dashed 
dreams  anywhere. 

At  the  tinkle  of  the  tea-bell  Miss  Virginia  came  into 
the  hall  and  called  me  from  my  perch  on  the  first  land- 
ing. Her  tender  heart  melted  at  sight  of  my  disordered 
appearance.  The  stairs  were  bleak  and  draughty  ;  my 
skin  was  rough  with  cold,  my  forehead  indented  by 
leaning  on  the  banisters,  and  my  teeth  chattered  nerv- 
ously. She  kissed  me,  chafed  my  hands  and  smoothed 
my  tousled  hair. 

"Poor  little  Sweetbrier  !  the  sharp  winds  shake  you 
terribly — don't  they  ?  Never  mind,  dear  !  Everything 
always  does  come  right  at  last,  you  know.  Run  up  and 
see  if  Miss  Harry  wants  any  supper — won't  you  ?  She 
is  never  cross  or  short  with  you  /" 

At  Miss  Harry's  door  I  met  Apphia,  coming  out,  a 
letter  in  her  hand.  Her  mistress  was  brushing  her  hair 
preparatory  to  answering  the  bell. 

"  Come  in,  pet !"  she  said,  gayly.  "  You  '11  stand  by 
me,  whatever  comes.  It 's  in  the  blood,  I  think.  Don't 
let  them  persuade  you  that  I  ought  to  be  turned  into 
the  street  and  trodden  under  foot." 

"Nobody  could  !"  replied  I,  defiantly.     "And,  Miss 


268  JUDITH: 

Harry  " — eager  to  tender  my  one  sweet  crumb  of  com- 
fort— "  Miss  Virginia  told  me  just  now  that  everything 
would  come  out  right  at  last." 

She  caught  my  arms,  swung  me  around  the  room  in  a 
wild  waltz.  She  was  like  one  "  fey  "  under  the  com- 
mingling excitements  of  the  hour. 

"Come  right!"  she  cried.  "How  can  anything  go 
wrong  in  this  great,  glorious  world  of  ours  ?  Now  for  a 
race  to  the  parlor  door  !" 

Down  stairs  she  was  the  life  of  the  party. 

"Why  shouldn't  I  want  my  supper,  and  eat  it  with 
good  appetite  and  conscience  ?"  she  answered  Miss 
Virginia's  expressed  satisfaction  at  her  appearance 
among  them.  "I  have  done  nothing  that  needs  to 
be  repented  of  in  sackcloth  and  ashes  ;  have  no  idea  of 
fasting,  or  supping  on  dry  bread  soaked  in  salty  tears. 
Sid  will  feel  better  when  he  has  broken  his  fast,  be 
quite  humane  and  decent  after  a  night's  rest.  Being 
a  rational  creature  he  will  comprehend  the  folly  of  con- 
tending with  Fate — and  with  a  woman  who  has  made 
up  her  mind!" 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         269 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

SIDNEY  MACON  could  not  alter  the  bent  of  his  sis- 
ter's will.  He  could,  and  he  did,  carry  out  his  decision 
that  she  should  go  home  with  him  when  the  business 
that  had  brought  him  to  Richmond  was  finished. 

"  The  naughty  child  will  be  no  gooder  in  country 
than  in  town,"  she  informed  him,  with  the  audacious 
vivacity  she  had  maintained  in  his  presence  since  the 
close  of  their  one  hot,  bitter  altercation.  "  Xot  that  I 
mind  being  put  into  the  corner  and  lectured  by  under- 
lings. It  amounts  to  nothing  in  the  end.  I  appeal 
unto  Csesar.  When  did  the  blessed  autocrat  of  Hunt- 
er's Rest  refuse  me  anything  ?" 

The  Major  had  spent  a  whole  forenoon  writing  a  let- 
ter of  unparalleled  proportions  to  his  ancient  crony. 
Mr.  Waring,  as  nobody  but  his  betrothed  knew  at  the 
time,  had  penned  a  formal  petition  to  her  father  for  the 
honor  of  Miss  Harriet  Macon's  hand.  Mrs.  Dabney 
was  never  seen  during  the  three  days  that  remained  of 
our  visit,  without  a  damp  handkerchief  in  her  fingers, 
usually  at  her  eyes.  The  tip  of  her  thin  nose  was  a 
polished  red,  and  her  wobbling  whine  over  the  "sad, 
sad,  sad  affair,"  her  "  who-would-have-thought-its  ?" 
and  incessant  "  I  call  all  to  witness  that  I  was  opposed 
to  bringing  the  man  inside  of  Christian  doors,"  went 
far,  I  suspect,  toward  reconciling  Harry  to  the  return 
home  in  disgrace. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day  after  the  revela- 
tion that  had  shaken  the  peaceful  household  to  the 
foundation-stone,  she  invited  me  to  pay  a  farewell  visit 


270  JUDITH: 

to  McGovern's  Garden.  The  conservatories  and  well- 
tended  flower-beds  of  the  only  florist  of  note  in  Rich- 
mond were,  in  blossom  seasons,  a  much-affected  resort 
with  the  better  classes  of  young  people.  The  broad, 
central  alley,  bordered  by  roses,  was  called  "  Flirtation 
"Walk."  The  narrow  aisles  of  the  green-house  had  been 
the  scene  of  gallant  and  loving  passages  innumerable. 
To  me — who  had  seen  beside  these  no  conservatory  ex- 
cept the  small  building  at  Hunter's  Rest,  which  was  the 
solace  of  sickly  Diana's  life — McGovern's  modest  glass- 
houses were  vast  and  bewitching. 

My  heart  sank  in  disappointment  when  on  the  front 
door-step  we  met  Uncle  Archie  and  Sidney  Macon. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?"  demanded  the  latter 
sternly. 

"  To  McGovern's,  to  fill  the  memorandum  Di  sent  by 
you.  Perhaps  you  prefer  to  do  it  yourself?" 

She  showed  the  folded  paper  on  the  palm  of  her  hand, 
her  smile  as  ingenuous  as  a  baby's. 

"  You  know  I  can't  tell  a  rose  from  a  potato-flower," 
(her  cool  hardihood  was  a  continual  irritation,  and  his 
rasping  tone  betrayed  it) ;  "but  I  had  better  go  with 
you." 

She  stood  perfectly  still,  her  face  as  open  as  the  sky. 

"  Why,  may  I  ask  ?  The  danger  of  elopement  is  not 
so  imminent  that  you  need  play  watch-dog  all  the  time. 
Or  is  this  a  fresh  proof  of  the  '  brotherly  love  '  that  has 
'  continued  '  so  virulently  for  two  days  past  ?" 

"Don't  be  foolish,  Sidney  !"  Uncle  Archie  put  his 
arm  within  that  of  his  friend.  "  Distrust  is  always  un- 
kind. Sometimes  it  is  an  insult.  Miss  Harry,  may  I 
commission  you  to  select  some  seeds  and  roots  for 
Maria's  flower-garden  ?"  He  slipped  a  bank-note  into 
her  hand.  "  And  a  tea-rose  for  Judith.  1  heard  her 
wishing  for  one  last  winter." 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          271 

Honest  scarlet  stained  a  face  that  was  no  longer 
proud.  The  smile  of  flippant  defiance  passed  like  a  dis- 
torted gleam  uglier  than  shadow.  She  spoke  very  fast, 
looking  straight  at  him  : 

"  Before  you  let  Judith  go  with  me,  you  ought  to 
know  that  I  expect  to  meet  Mr.  Waring  at  the  Garden. 
Since  he  cannot  visit  me  here,  I  must  say  '  Good-by' — 
not  'Farewell,'  mind  you  ! — to  him  somewhere.  If  you 
would  rather  guard  her  from  the  contamination  of  ap- 
pearing in  public  with  me  in  such  circumstances,  you 
have  only  to  speak  the  word.  I  wouldn't  have  men- 
tioned it,  but  you  trusted  me  !" 

"  If  you  will  allow  me,  I  will  accompany  you  both  1" 
was  the  unexpected  rejoinder.  "  Please  make  my  ex- 
cuses to  Mrs.  Dabney  and  Miss  Virginia,  Sidney  !" 

We  were  in  the  street  before  anything  more  was  said. 
He  had  offered  his  arm,  and  Miss  Harry  had  taken  it. 

"  You  know  it  will  make  no  difference  1"  she  inter- 
jected presently. 

"  I  understand  that  perfectly." 

"  You  disapprove  of  the  whole  proceeding  ?" 

"The  question  is  too  general." 

She  cast  aside  the  dry  laconicism  so  foreign  to  their 
usual  style  of  converse. 

"You  blame  me  for  promising  to  marry  the  man  to 
whom  I  have  given  my  whole  heart — for  whom  I  have 
waited  through  the  years  that  bring  dozens  of  fancies 
to  most  girls — one  who  has  not  his  peer  among  his  fel- 
lows !  He  is  noble  by  birth  and  princely  in  nature,  rich 
in  gifts  of  mind  and  person.  Because  I  recognize  my 
king  under  a  disguise  no  meaner  than  other  kings  have 
assumed  that  they  might  see  the  world  to  advantage, 
and  be  loved  for  themselves  instead  of  for  wealth  and 
station,  I  am  told  that  I  have  forfeited  all  claim  to  re- 
spect, degraded  my  womanhood,  deserved  to  lose  the 


272  JUDITH: 

love  of  family  and  friends  ;  that  I  have  been  bold,  un- 
maidenly — " 

The  last  word  choked  the  channel  of  utterance. 

"  You  overheat  your  imagination  by  dwelling  upon 
the  angry  exaggerations  of  other  people,"  answered 
Uncle  Archie  quietly.  "  Nobody  thinks  that  you  have 
done  one  of  these  dreadful  things.  If  Mr.  Waring  be 
what  3'ou  represent,  you  have  not  a  friend  who  would 
not  approve  your  choice.  If  your  position  were  that  of 
an}'  other  woman  you  know,  your  good  sense  would  com- 
mend the  decision  of  her  relatives  to  wait  for  proof  that 
her  new  acquaintance  is  a  man  of  good  family  and  char- 
acter. There  is  the  whole  matter  in  a  dozen  words  ! 
When  Mr.  Waring  comes  to  Hunter's  Rest  with  satis- 
factory certificates  to  prove  that  he  is  what  he  pretends 
to  be,  and  is  turned  away,  it  will  be  time  enough  for  you 
to  complain  that  he  and  you  are  ill-used." 

u  Then  " — eagerly — "  }rou  will  keep  }*our  promise  of 
intercession  ?  will  use  your  influence  with  Papa  ?" 

"  I  will !" 

She  was  battling  with  softer  emotions  than  had 
spoken  in  her  former  appeal — began  a  sentence,  and 
stopped  to  control  her  voice. 

"  Thank  Heaven,  that  I  have  one  true  friend  !  My 
first  sorrow  is  a  sorely  heavy  one,  Mr.  Read.  I  laughed 
outright  last  night  when  Major  Dabney  ended  his 
hour's  expostulations,  but  it  was  because  I  was  ready  to 
cry.  I  felt  that  he  meant  to  be  kind.  I  was  sorry  that 
I  had  caused  him  distress,  but  he  had  seasoned  his  talk 
with  abuse  of  a  man  every  way  his  superior,  blamed 
himself  for  allowing  him  to  enter  his  bouse,  and  mnch 
more  of  the  same  sort — and  worse.  I  told  him  not  to 
trouble  his  conscience  on  that  score — that  we  had  met 
twice  before  he  introduced  Mr.  Waring  to  me,  and  al- 
ready loved  one  another  better  than  he  could  imagine 


A  CHRONICLE  Ofr  OLD  VIRGINIA.          273 

people  ever  loving  in  any  circumstances.  With  that, 
I  marched  out  of  the  room  without  farther  explana- 
tion," 

"  That  was  unjust  to  you,  uncandid  to  a  good,  warm* 
hearted  gentleman,  whose  one  fault  in  this  affair  has 
been  a  too-ready  hospitality,  and  a  belief  that  others 
are  as  honest  as  himself." 

I  thought  the  bold  reproof  would  anger  her,  but  she 
only  replied,  after  the  struggle  of  a  second,  "  I  will  beg 
his  pardon,  if  you  think  best." 

"I  do  think  it  best  that  you  should  not  willfully 
throw  away  respect  and  good-will.  Here  is  the  garden, 
and  I  see  that  Mr.  Waring  is  waiting.  If  you  will  trust 
me,  I  will,  with  pleasure,  attend  to  your  sister's  memo- 
randum and  wait  for  you  at  the  gate." 

She  consigned  the  paper  to  him  with  a  look  of  affec- 
tionate gratitude  it  was  well  her  lover  was  not  near 
enough  to  see.  Few  men  would  have  read  it  aright. 
Fewer  would  have  been  generous  enough  to  brook  it 
had  their  claims  upon  her  been  strong  and  confessed. 
Then  she  went  slowly  down  the  long  alley,  from  the  far 
end  of  which  a  tall  figure  advanced  to  meet  her.  I 
watched  them  in  a  maze  of  romanceful  enjoyment  and 
intense  misgivings.  Uncle  Archie's  straightforward 
common  sense  had  cleared  my  perceptions  and  steadied 
my  judgment  measurably.  If  this  man  were  not  an 
impostor  there  must  be  means  of  proving  it.  If  he 
could  not  produce  these,  father,  brother  and  friends 
were  more  than  justified  in  refusing  to  sanction  his. suit 
of  their  darling. 

But  how  handsome  he  was  !  how  graceful  the  rever- 
ence with  which  he  bent  toward  her,  his  kingly  head 
bared  in  the  sunlight ! 

"  Don't  you  think  he  is  a  good  man,  Uncle  Archie  ?" 
queried  I,  tentatively,  as  we  entered  the  green-house. 


274  JUDITH: 

"  I  do  not  know  him  well  enough  to  judge,  nor  to  talk 
about  him  yet,  littu  girl  I" 

Which  I  rightly  construed  into  a  recommendation  to 
me  to  hold  my  peace. 

The  west  wore  the  mellow  dyes  of  a  spring  evening 
when  we  returned  to  the  gate.  The  air  was  scented 
with  violets,  jonquils  and  hyacinths  opening  wide  their 
cups  for  draughts  of  the  warm,  sweet  breeze.  Just 
over  the  lovers'  heads  as  they  paused  at  the  other  ex- 
tremity of  the  flower-skirted  walk  before  turning  to  re- 
join us,  the  crescent  moon  fainted  in  the  pale  yellow 
sky.  Harry  raised  her  hand  to  point  it  out  to  her  com- 
panion. Both  stood  looking  at  it  for  a  minute,  their 
figures  drawn  darkly,  yet  in  soft,  uncertain  lines  above 
the  hilly  horizon. 

"  She  saw  it  over  her  right  shoulder  !"  escaped  me  in 
my  exultation.  "  That  is  a  splendid  sign  I" 

"I  cannot  have  you  grow  up  superstitious,  Judith," 
said  my  mentor,  with  perceptible  emphasis  on  the  second 
personal  pronoun.  "  Do  you  suppose  that  our  Heavenly 
Father  would  let  your  future  happiness  depend  on  the 
chances  of  seeing  the  moon  to  the  right  or  the  left  of 
you  ?  That  would  make  Him  out  to  be  weaker  and 
sillier  than  the  most  foolish  person  you  ever  saw." 

"But  dreams — now!"  ventured  I,  cowed  by  his  un- 
wonted asperity. 

"  Come,  sometimes,  from  heavy  suppers.  Sometimes, 
I  verily  believe,  from  the  devil !" 

The  others  were  too  near  for  farther  talk  between  us, 
but  cold  shivers  of  doubt  crept  around  my  heart.  Had 
there  been  diabolical  agency  in  the  vision  that  predicted 
this  girl's  meeting  with  her  lover,  even  to  the  utterance 
of  the  line  of  the  song  that  locked  the  chain  upon  hear* 
and  fancy  ? 

Major  Dabney  lent  his  carriage  and  horses  to  convey 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         275 

us  back  to  our  country  homes.  Apphia,  saucy  and 
rosy,  with  many  added  touches  of  city  fashion  in  her 
apparel,  mounted  to  the  high  box  by  the  admiring 
coachman  when  her  mistress  and  I  were  bestowed 
within  the  roomy  chariot.  A  box  of  plants  occupied 
the  front  seat.  My  precious  tea-rose  I  carried  in  my 
own  hands.  The  topmost  bud  tickled  my  nose,  and  I 
had  to  clutch  it  tightly  to  save  it  from  breakage  and 
bruise  in  the  vicissitudes  of  the  roads,  which  were  at 
their  spring  worst.  Sidney  and  Uncle  Archie  were  out- 
riders. 

"  On  my  way  to  jail,  with  a  constable  on  each  side  I" 
Miss  Harry  put  out  her  head  to  say  to  her  friend  who 
waited  on  the  sidewalk  to  see  us  off. 

The  latter  was  very  pretty  that  morning,  her  fluffy 
hair  blowing  over  her  forehead,  her  bloom  deepening  in 
the  damp  air.  There  were  tears  in  her  eyes,  but  she 
smiled  them  back,  shook  her  head  in  arch  reproof. 

"No!  to  Paradise,  attended  by  two  Greathearts  I" 
she  retorted.  "  I  wish  I  were  going  with  you.  Pity  us 
poor  creatures  left  in  the  City  of  Destruction!" 

She  could  no  more  help  speaking  kindly  than  some 
people  can  help  being  blunt.  This  may  have  been  only 
one  of  the  tactful,  gracious  sayings  with  which  she 
habitually  covered  the  lapses  and  blunders  of  others. 
But  I  was  grateful  for  it  when  I  saw  the  brightness  in 
Uncle  Archie's  face.  The  opportunities  of  confidential 
talk  with  the  daughter  of  the  house  had  been  scant  at 
his  former  visit.  The  present  was  absolutely  barren  of 
such  advantages.  Poor  Harry's  escapade  had  disturbed 
and  occupied  the  thoughts  of  all.  An  imprudent  lover 
might  have  hesitated  to  obtrude  his  suit  in  the  circum- 
stances. This  one  should  have  been  used  to  putting  by 
his  own  hopes  and  joys  that  the  less  important  affairs 
of  others  might  receive  due  attention. 


276  JUDITH: 

We  passed  from  the  muddy,  unpaved  quarter  devoted 
to  private  residences  into  Main  Street,  rumbled  and 
jolted  over  the  badly-laid  cobble-stones  that  made  a  bot- 
tom for  that  popular  thoroughfare,  past  the  Eagle  Hotel 
and  the  stores  where  we  had  spent  many  forenoons  shop- 
ping, not  only  for  ourselves,  but  for  half  the  country- 
side. At  the  corner,  where  we  turned  toward  Mayo's 
Bridge,  was  an  organ-grinder,  surrounded  by  the  inevit- 
able troop  of  urchins.  His  monkey  was  sprawling  on 
the  front  of  the  nearest  store  at  the  full  length  of  his 
tether ;  the  thin-faced  wife,  wrapped  in  a  tattered  red 
shawl,  beat  her  tambourine  while  her  master  sang 
"Buy  a  broom."  It  was  very  early  in  the  day.  Ked- 
dish  fogs  drooped  low  on  the  Chesterfield  hills  beyond 
the  river,  gave  a  lurid  cast  to  the  light  in  which  we  saw 
idle  clerks  standing  in  store-doors,  colored  porters  ar- 
resting the  business  of  sweeping  the  sidewalks  to  lean 
on  their  clumsy  splint  brooms  and  grin  at  the  monkey's 
antics,  the  hollow  cheeks  and  heavy  eyes  of  the  tam- 
bourine woman,  and  the  stolid  visage  of  her  com- 
panion. 

Miss  Harry  smiled  languidly  in  response  to  my  ex- 
cited look,  leaned  forward  and  threw  a  coin  to  the 
musicians.  I  saw  Sidney's  contemptuous  shrug  and 
Uncle  Archie's  expression  of  amused  surprise  as  the 
bright  silver  dollar  struck  and  rolled  on  the  stones  under 
the  woman's  feet. 

"  If  we  had  not  stopped  to  look  at  them  that  day — " 
began  Miss  Harry.  "  But  no  !  we  could  not  have  missed 
him,  you  know  !  It  was  foreordained  !" 

We  did  not  miss  him  to-day.  He  stood  at  the  Rich- 
mond end  of  the  bridge,  so  near  to  the  wheel-track  as 
to  be  able  to  lay  a  bunch  of  violets  on  Miss  Harry's 
knee.  It  was  done  in  one  swift,  dexterous  gesture,  then 
he  stood  back  with  lifted  hat,  his  passionate  regards 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          277 

burning  on  her  face  while  the  carriage  rolled  very 
slowly  by. 

"I  'd  'a'  made  that  thick-headed  'Manuel  stop  clean, 
smack,  dead  still  1"  Apphia  told  me  afterward;  "but 
he  was  'fraid  o'  his  life  o'  Mars'  Sidney.  I  ain't,  you 
better  blieve !  He  dar'sn't  lay  finger  on  me,  an'  cus- 
sin'  don't  break  bones.  I  ain't  been  had  no  use  for 
that  possum-faced  'Manuel  from  that  minnit.  I  tell 
him  he  ain't  got  the  sperrit  of  a'  old  har' ! " 

Sidney  had  spurred  on  in  advance  to  pay  the  toll,  and 
not  observed,  while  making  change  for  the  gate-keeper, 
the  figure  on  the  hither  side  of  the  toll-house  until  the 
violets  had  been  given  and  the  donor  moved  away  from 
the  wheels.  I  feared  for  an  instant  that  the  brother 
would  have  ridden  him  down,  so  fierce  was  the  pall  on 
the  rein  that  drew  the  blooded  horse  back  on  his 
haunches,  so  menacing  the  brandish  and  snap  of  the 
whip  in  his  other  hand.  Miss  Harry  did  not  see  this 
by-play,  or  aught  else  besides  the  one  face  she  might 
never  behold  again  if  Sidney  were  to  give  tone  to  family 
opinion.  The  apparition  was  a  surprise  as  complete  to 
her  as  to  the  others,  and  moved  her  as  their  formal  part- 
ing in  the  garden  had  not.  Heedless  of  observation  and 
comment,  she  arose  to  kneel  on  the  seat  and  get  a  last, 
long  look  out  of  the  small,  round  window  in  the  back 
curtain,  then  sank  down  in  her  corner  and  drew  a  thick 
veil  over  her  face,  weeping  convulsively.  I  could  not 
see  for  blinding  tears,  but  I  felt  that  one  of  the  horse- 
men approached  her  window  as  if  to  speak,  then  checked 
himself,  struck  his  horse  smartly  and  dashed  ahead. 
Not  a  sentence  was  uttered  except  in  guarded  sub-tones 
by  the  servants  on  the  box,  for  several  miles. 

It  was  a  tedious,  drearisome  journey.  The  red  mud 
was  up  to  the  axles  in  the  bottoms,  and  we  would  have 
sunk  yet  lower  but  for  the  "  corduroy"  underpinning  of 


278  JUDITH: 

logs  in  the  worst  morasses.  Over  this,  progress  was  a 
cruel  series  of  bumps,  jolts  and  rockings  that  taxed 
human  frames  and  carriage-springs  to  the  utmost  extent 
of  endurableness.  The  horses  drew  their  legs  out  of 
the  viscid  clay  with  a  curious  sucking  noise  as  if  ma- 
licious underground  gnomes  were  smacking  their  lips  in 
glee  at  our  evil  case.  We  stopped  but  half  an  hour  at 
the  House  of  Entertainment  where  we  had  dined  so 
gayly  six  weeks  before.  The  horses  were  rubbed  down, 
a  pail  of  corn  meal  and  water  administered  to  each,  and 
we  pushed  on.  Had  our  escorts  been  in  tune  for  con- 
versation, they  could  not  have  kept  near  enough  to  us 
for  indulgence  in  the  desire.  The  corduroy — otherwise 
the  "gridiron"  causeway — was  a  single  track  con- 
structed in  the  middle  of  the  broad  public  road.  Ou 
each  side  of  this  were  red  deeps  and  danger,  and  alniosx. 
as  much  might  be  said  of  the  quaggy  wastes  outlying 
the  double  row  of  worn  ruts  zigzagging  from  one  firm 
spot  to  another.  By  four  o'clock  the  easily -returning 
clouds  of  spring-tide  gathered  portentously  above  us. 
By  six,  a  fine  chilly  drizzle  set  in,  and  in  another  hour 
increased  to  a  steady  rainfall. 

Still  there  was  no  talk  of  not  reaching  the  home  of 
one  or  the  other  section  of  the  little  party.  The  car- 
riage-lamps were  kindled  at  a  wayside  smithy,  harness 
and  horses  inspected  in  the  light  of  the  forge-fire,  and 
more  meal  and  water  administered.  The  gentlemen 
alighted,  stamped  hard  and  shook  themselves  before  the 
blaze,  to  get  rid  of  some  of  their  encrustment  of  mud. 
Their  shadows,  grotesque  and  monstrous,  filled  the 
cabin,  stretched  away  into  the  road  and  broke  upon  our 
wheels.  Uncle  Archie  drew  out  a  pocket-flask  and  cup, 
poured  out  something  and  brought  it  to  Miss  Harry. 

"  A  little  wine  will  do  you  good  !"  he  said,  without 
preamble,  but  in  bis  usual  tone. 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          279 

If  he  had  pitied  her  she  probably  would  have  refused 
it.  As  it  was,  she  took  the  cup  with  a  low  "Thank 
you  !"  drank  a  part  of  the  contents  and  pressed  the  rest 
on  me. 

"Are  you  very  tired,  Judith  ?"  asked  my  uncle. 

"A  little,  sir!" 

"  She  is  very  good  !"  appended  Miss  Harry.  "  Very 
brave  and  patient !" 

"  That  is  well !    She  will  sleep  soundly  to-night." 

He  shut  the  door.  Emmanuel  climbed  to  the  box. 
The  harness  creaked  and  the  carriage  groaned  as  the 
horses  dragged  it  out  of  the  mud  in  which  it  had  settled 
deeply  during  the  halt.  The  light  of  the  burning  coal, 
the  smell  of  which  had  brought  Richmond  and  our 
departed  holiday  keenly  back  to  me,  faded  in  the  rainy 
darkness.  The  miles  grew  longer  and  longer.  I  was 
fatigued  be}-ond  the  power  of  complaint.  In  the  dark- 
ness silent  tears  rained  over  the  hands,  numbed  and 
sore  with  holding  on  to  the  tea-rose  pot.  Miss  Harry 
was  very  kind,  but  she  showed  her  compassionate  in- 
terest by  an  occasional  inquiry  as  to  my  welfare  and 
such  slight  offices  as  lay  in  her  power  to  offer  toward  miti- 
gation of  my  evident  discomfort.  I  understood,  even 
then,  that  to  attempt  a  show  of  cheerfulness  was  an  im- 
possibility with  her.  With  the  last  glimpse  of  her  lover, 
the  excitement  that  had  sustained  her  for  three  days 
utterly  deserted  her.  The  long,  depressing  day  must 
have  seemed  full  of  sad  presages.  Her  spirit  could  not 
but  shrink  in  view  of  the  battles  to  be  fought  with  her 
nearest  of  kin,  especially  at  the  prospective  struggle 
with  the  father  who,  idolizing  her,  would  be,  on  that 
account,  the  more  tenacious  of  the  traditions  of  his 
tribe  and  order.  She  must  also  have  dreaded,  with 
different  and  haughtier  feelings,  county  gossip,  charged 
with  her  name ;  the  varied  phases  of  indignation, 


280  JUDITH: 

grieved  surprise  and  mean  exultation  th«  wagging 
tongues  would  express. 

We  had  made  room  for  Apphia  inside  of  the.  carriage 
when  the  rain  set  in.  She  was  asleep,  wedged  between 
the  box  of  plants  and  the  stuffed  side  of  the  vehicle,  I 
well-nigh  dead  with  drowsiness  I  dared  not  indulge, 
when  Sidney  called  to  the  driver  to  stop,  and,  riding  up 
alongside,  addressed  his  sister  for  the  first  time  since  we 
left  Major  Dabney's  door. 

"Harry!  it  would  not  be  safe  to  attempt  the  creek 
to-night.  We  think  it  better  for  you  to  drive  on  to 
Summerfield  and  stay  there  until  morning.  We  are  at 
the  Cross-Roads  now,  three  miles  nearer  Summerfield 
than  Hunter's  Rest." 

"  What  does  Mr.  Read  say  ?" 

Her  voice  was  hard  as  well  as  tired.  She  would  ac- 
cept nothing  upon  her  brother's  word.  Uncle  Archie 
was  close  at  hand.  His  reply  sounded  in  my  very  ear. 
I  could  imagine  just  how  he  leaned  over  in  the  saddle 
to  lay  his  hand  on  the  window-frame — the  old,  familiar 
attitude  associated  in  my  mind  with  fine-weather  drives 
through  forest  roads  and  between  plantation  fences. 
With  gay  corteges  of  fair  girls  and  bevies  of  beaux  rein- 
ing in  their  curveting  horses  to  exchange  merry  repar- 
tee and  pay  graceful  compliment.  With  the  days — how 
long  past  they  were  to  me  to-night! — when  I  had 
thought  it  a  glorious  thing  to  be  a  "  turned-out"  young 
lady  with  scores  of  admirers,  and  Miss  Harry  Macon 
the  most  enviable  of  created  beings.  We  had  stopped 
on  the  very  spot  where  her  father  had  stood,  his  gray 
head  bared,  holding  the  carriage  door  open  for  her  on 
Christmas  day,  and  half  a  dozen  cavaliers  had  sprung 
from  their  saddles  to  attend  her. 

The  rain  plashed  straight  and  sullenly  into  the  pools, 
deadening  the  chafing  of  the  boughs  against  one  an- 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         281 

other  and  the  ceaseless  sigh  of  the  dripping  pines.  All 
this  I  thought  and  felt  and  heard,  while  Uncle  Archie's 
voice  gave  me  the  impression  of  one  thing  strong  and 
true  amid  gloom  and  dissolution : 

"I  hope  you  will  not  think  of  driving  through  the 
ford  at  this  time  of  night.  The  water  must  be  high, 
and  your  driver  is  not  familiar  with  the  road.  In  less 
than  an  hour  we  can  be  safely  housed  at  Summerfield. 
You  know  how  welcome  you  will  be  there." 

"  Thank  you  !  Let  it  be  as  you  wish !  It  is  only 
waiting  a  little  longer,"  she  subjoined  in  an  undertone, 
sinking  back  in  her  seat  as  we  moved  on.  And  yet 
lower,  as  if  to  herself—"  But  I  wish  it  were  over !  How 
I  wish  it  were  over !" 

"  Miss  Harry,  honey  !  I  wouldn't  fret  if  I  was  you  !" 
said  Apphia,  tenderly.  "You  allers  could  twis'  Mars- 
ter  'roun'  your  finger.  Jes'  you  keep  up  a  brave  heart 
an'  speak  real  peart  to  him,  an'  he  '11  give  you  your 
own  way  same  like  he  's  been  doin'  ever  sence  you  was 
born.  You  're  Macon  all  over,  an'  thar  never  was  one 
of  'em  that  would  give  up  not  ef  they  was  cut  to  pieces, 
bit  by  bit.  Ole  Uncle  Caesar,  he  use'  to  say  as  how  a 
snappin'-turkle  'ud  never  let  go  his  bite  'thout  it  thun- 
dered, but  that  the  thunders  o'  Mount  Siny  and  the 
Jedgement  day  put  together  wouldn't  shake  off  a  Macon 
onct  he'd  took  holt." 

She  gave  the  sweet,  shrill  laugh  of  the  mulatto  at  the, 
to  me,  unpleasing  conceit.  Her  mistress  did  not  reply. 
Perhaps  she  recollected  that  her  father  too  was  a  full- 
blooded  Macon. 

The  lighted  windows  of  Summerfield  shone  dimly 
through  the  mists  as  we  drew  up  at  the  gate.  At  Uncle 
Archie's  shout,  the  house-dogs  bounded  across  the 
yard,  barking  a  vociferous  welcome ;  dusky  forms,  bear- 
ing blazing  lightwood  knots,  issued  from  the  kitchen ; 


282  JUDITH: 

the  door  of  the  house  was  flung  wide,  and  a  flood  of 
lamplight  flickered  on  the  drenched  floor  of  the  porch. 
When,  wet,  chilled  and  stiffened,  we  dragged  our  tired 
bodies  up  the  steps,  we  found  ourselves  literally  in  the 
arms  of  the  Blessed  Three  who  had  come  forth  to  re' 
ceive  us. 

"This  is  none  other  than  the  gate  of  heaven  !"  said 
Miss  Harry,  'twixt  laughing  and  crying,  dropping  her 
head  on  Grandma's  shoulder.  "  Virginia  called  it  Para- 
dise, and  she  was  right !" 

It  was  ten  o'clock  when,  dry,  warm  and  cheery,  we 
assembled  about  a  smoking-hot  supper,  served  on  a 
round  table  before  the  fire  in  "the  chamber" — Grand- 
ma's own  room.  There  were  four  places,  and  Aunt 
Maria  sat  down  to  pour  out  coffee. 

"  Where  is  Sidney  ?"  asked  his  sister,  abruptly. 

"He  left  us  at  the  Cross-Roads.  Didn't  you  know 
it  ?"  returned  Uncle  Archie.  "  Having  written  to  your 
father  to  expect  you  to-night,  he  was  afraid  he  might 
be  uneasy  if  he  heard  nothing  of  you — " 

"Harry,  dear!"  cried  Aunt  Maria,  starting  up  in 
real  terror. 

Harry  had  arisen  to  her  full  height ;  her  face  was 
fearful  to  behold  with  sneer  and  scowl. 

"I  comprehend!"  she  articulated,  as  if  each  slow 
syllable  cost  a  separate  action  of  lungs  and  throat.  "  If 
I  had  known  it  in  time  I  would  have  followed  him  on 
foot.  The  risk  of  drowning  would  have  been  nothing 
to  me  compared  with  that  of  letting  that  traitor  get  to 
my  father's  ear  before  me.  It  was  a  clever  trick  !  an 
honorable,  manly  subterfuge,  worthy  of  him  who  con- 
trived and  carried  it  out !  Living  and  dying,  I  will 
never  forgive  him  1" 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         283 


CHAPTER  XVHL 

WHEN  Trouchin,  in  1780,  took  stays,  stocks  and 
books  from  Neckar's  precocious  daughter,  and  turned 
her  loose  in  the  fields  to  run  with  the  colts  and  calves, 
he  was  so  far  in  advance  of  the  sentiment  of  the  day 
with  regard  to  the  training  of  girls  that  we  do  not  won- 
der at  the  resentment  of  the  mother,  the  ci-devant  gov- 
erness. 

"  She  is  nothing  to  what  I  would  have  made  her  !" 
Madam  Neckar  would  say  slightingly,  when  congratu- 
lated upon  the  brilliant  social  and  literary  successes  of 
the  De  Stael. 

Popular  prejudice  had  yielded  so  slowly  to  common 
sense  and  the  teachings  of  experience,  that  in  1832 
stated  exercise  in  the  open  air,  as  a  Christian  duty  of 
women  and  girls,  was  as  little  thought  of  as  the  mag- 
netic telegraph.  Men  lived  much  out  of  doors,  spend- 
ing whole  days  in  the  saddle,  and  tramping  for  long 
hours  over  their  plantations,  and,  gun  on  shoulder, 
through  the  woods  in  pursuit  of  abundant  game.  Every 
woman  could  ride  on  horseback  for  the  sake  of  conve- 
nience, carriages  being  comparatively  few  in  some 
neighborhoods,  and  the  roads  in  winter  and  spring 
almost  impassable  to  lighter  vehicles  than  four-horse 
wagons.  The  conventional  gentlewoman  of  that  genera- 
tion "sat  on  a  cushion"  in-doors  or  on  the  roofed  porch, 
and  "sewed  up  a  seam,"  summer,  winter,  spring  and 
autumn.  She  was  inducted  into  the  mysteries  of  the 
daintier  arts  of  housewifery  —  preserving,  pickling,  jelly 
and  cake-making  ;  could  wash  her  own  laces,  and  clear- 
starch her  own  muslins,  "  give  out"  breakfast,  dinner 


284  JUDITH; 

and  supper,  and  was  proficient  in  fine  and  fancy  needle- 
work. Laid  away  among  my  precious  things  is  an  an- 
cient counterpane,  embroidered  in  thirteen  different 
stitches,  by  my  grandmother's  shapely  hands.  The 
cotton  of  which  it  is  made  grew  on  her  father's  planta- 
tion ;  was  woven  into  a  fine  twilled  fabric  in  the  loom- 
room  ;  her  three  sisters  each  designed  a  corner  pattern ; 
her  only  brother,  who  was  very  much  in  love  with  the 
fair  neighbor  he  afterward  married,  sketched  an  altar, 
upbearing  a  pair  of  apoplectic  hearts  spitted  with  an 
arrow  and  steaming  with  affection,  for  the  fourth  cor- 
ner. On  the  centre  piece,  the  owner,  belle  and  be- 
trothed, exercised  her  taste  and  skill.  Within  a  lozenge, 
exactly  in  the  middle  of  the  counterpane,  the  bride  of 
a  week  worked  in  stiff,  lean  letters,  her  new  name, 
"  Judith  Read,  1790." 

Aunt  Maria  wrought  diligently  three  years  on  a  du- 
plicate of  the  treasured  heirloom,  the  original  descend- 
ing to  my  mother  as  the  eldest  child  who  survived 
infancy. 

My  grandmother  wore  tight  stays  from  the  hour  she 
arose  from  her  feather  bed  in  the  morning  until  Mammy 
'Kitta  undid  the  stout  laces  for  the  night.  Unless  really 
ill  she  never  lay  down  in  the  day-time,  and  when  the 
weather  was  even  slightly  unpleasant,  did  not  leave  the 
house  and  porches  for  weeks  together.  Her  skin  was 
as  fine-grained  and  smooth  as  ivory,  and  in  late  life  as 
colorless  ;  her  limbs,  feet  and  hands  retained  their  deli- 
cacy of  form  to  the  last.  My  mother  and  Aunt  Maria 
were  less  hale  than  she,  and  both  died  under  sixty  years 
of  age.  That  I,  the  fragile  offshoot  of  the  ancient  stock, 
was  suffered  to  roam  at  will  in  meadow  and  woods  until 
anxious  heads  were  shaken  over  the  probability  that  I 
would  grow  up  a  "  torn-boy,"  was  due  to  my  Uncle 
Archie's  influence  with  the  feminine  cabal.  That  I  am 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          285 

alive  upon  the  earth  this  day  and  in  fair  health,  I  owe, 
under  Heaven,  to  his  wise  indulgence  of  013-  love  of 
rambles  and  farm  sports.  I  rode  behind  him  on  a  sheep- 
skin pillion  when  he  made  his  rounds  of  the  plantation ; 
trudged  over  frozen  fields  at  his  side  to  see  the  ice- 
cutting  on  the  mill-pond.  From  him  I  gleaned  the 
knowledge  of  forestry  and  timbering  which  makes  my 
woodland  strolls  a  never-failing  source  of  enjoyment. 

On  a  mid- April  day,  a  fortnight  or  so  after  my  return 
from  town,  he  invited  me  to  ride  with  him  into  the 
heart  of  the  woods,  where  he  was  to  inspect  timber  cut 
during  the  winter  for  new  fences  and  barns.  He  set  me 
down,  at  my  request,  at  what  I  had  named  "my 
bower."  About  the  trunk  of  a  large  maple  tree  a  clus- 
ter of  saplings  had  sprung  up  on  all  sides  but  one.  In 
this  opening  the  bulging  roots  heaved  their  knees  into  a 
mossy  lap,  sloping  down  to  the  edge  of  a  rapid  brook. 
Two  years  before  Uncle  Archie  had  assisted  me  to  lash 
the  supple  young  trees  into  a  pent-house  above  the 
green  velvet  cushion.  Last  summer  he  had  bound  other 
wayward  sprays  down  to  their  appointed  places,  until 
the  fiercest  sun  could  not  penetrate  the  thatched  arch, 
and  we  had  once  found  beneath  it  a  safe  refuge  from  a 
summer  shower.  The  branches  were  scantily  decked 
to-day  with  tufts  of  downy,  pinkish  foliage  ;  the  ground 
was  strewed  with  the  dried  flowers  pushed  off  by  the 
leaf-buds.  I  brushed  them  from  the  moss,  hung  my 
"  snack  "-basket  on  a  broken  branch,  and  assured  Uncle 
Archie  that  I  should  have  a  grand  holiday  all  by  myself. 
He  need  not  hurry  back. 

"  I  shall  not  be  very  far  away,"  he  said.  "  Only  on 
the  other  side  of  the  hill,  where  the  men  are  loading  the 
wagon.  But  I  may  be  gone  some  time." 

"!N"ever  mind!  I  brought  my  book"  —  producing 
"  Moral  Tales."  "  I  have  only  read  it  twice." 


286  JUDITH: 

"  How  many  readings  do  you  expect  to  give  it  ?" 

He  stooped  to  pick  it  up  ;  turned  with  affected  care- 
lessness to  the  fly-leaf,  where  Miss  Virginia  had  written 
her  name  and  mine. 

"  Oh,  eight  or  nine,  I  suppose  !  I  read  '  Pilgrim's 
Progress '  through  three  or  four  times  a  year.  There 
are  so  few  really  interesting  Sunday  books  beside  that 
and  Miss  Hannah  More's  'Tracts,'  and  the  Bible,  of 
course." 

He  pinched  my  cheek,  repeating  laughingly,  "Of 
course  !"  put  the  book  down  tenderly  on  my  lap,  and 
mounted  his  horse. 

"  If  you  want  me,  you  have  only  to  call  very  loudly," 
was  his  parting  admonition. 

It  was  not  likely  that  I  should  have  occasion  to  sum- 
mon him.  The  woods  were  safe,  the  day  was  perfect. 
I  did  not  care  to  open  my  book  at  once.  Eesting  against 
the  brown-gray  trunk,  I  bethought  me  that  I  had 
missed  seeing  the  crimson  tassels  this  season;  pitied 
them  for  having  burned  out  their  brief  life  and  fallen 
unheeded.  I  fancied  how  the  ground  had  looked  gor- 
geously carpeted  with  them  ;  how  they  had  whirled  and 
danced  on  the  brook,  been  heaped  up  in  eddies  and 
behind  stones,  and  caught  in  the  long  grasses  shimmer- 
ing and  swaying  below  the  surface  of  the  water  that 
went  swishing  and  gurgling  down  to  the  creek  a  mile 
below.  Such  a  dear,  wonderful  little  brook  !  twisting 
and  glittering  and  darkling,  but  always  happy  and  clean, 
for  its  course  was  over  smooth  pebbles  and  between 
banks  bound  into  compactness  by  reticulated  roots,  and 
turfed  and  mossed  to  the  brink.  A  companionable 
little  brook,  in  which  I  had  built  grottoes,  with  colored 
stones  for  pixies,  and  over  which  leaned  certain  gnarled 
and  hollow  trees,  wherein  might  dwell  dryads  and  elves, 
although  tenanted  at  present  by  gray  squirrels,  that 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          287 

barked  and  scolded  when  I  came  too  near  to  them  in 
their  romping  races  over  dry  leaves  and  brushwood.  A 
very  tempting  brook  to-day,  being  so  full  after  the  spring 
floods  that  the  water  was  clear  brown  in  the  hollows, 
yet  warm  down  to  the  bottom.  I  laid  my  book  in  a 
crotched  branch,  beyond  the  reach  of  scattering  drops, 
pulled  off  my  home-knit  stockings  and  thick  shoes, 
drew  the  skirt  of  my  blue-spotted  frock  up  to  my  knees 
and  stepped  into  the  delicious  tide.  I  had  done  the 
same  often  enough  to  learn  that  better  wading-grounds 
lay  down  the  stream,  and  splashed  gayly  along,  stop- 
ping now  and  then  to  revel  in  the  ripple  of  the  soft  cur- 
rent over  my  "ankles,  bare  and  brown,"  and  to  watch 
the  minnows  in  the  shallows.  A  school  of  these  took 
flight  at  my  approach,  and  darted  away,  throwing 
somersaults  over  the  stones,  and  floating,  sometimes 
head  first,  sometimes  backward  and  upside-down  in  the 
rapids.  I  gave  chase  in  sheer  light-heartedness,  holding 
my  skirts  well  up  and  dashing  the  spray  right  and  left 
until  I  was  in  water  knee-deep. 

Just  where  my  brook  spread  out  into  a  miniature 
lake,  fringed  by  "  branch-willows,  "ochreous  and  glossy 
to  the  tiniest  tip,  and  studded  with  grayish  leaves,  I 
turned  a  sharp  corner,  and  came  full  upon  two  people 
seated  on  a  fallen  trunk. 

"Why,  Sweetbrier  !"  cried  Harry  Macon,  with  an 
agitated  laugh.  "  How  you  startled  me  !  Did  you  drop 
from  the  clouds  ?"  More  nervously  still :  "  Who  is 
with  you  ?" 

Mr.  Waring  had  arisen  with  her,  and  made  me  a  pro- 
found bow. 

"Good-day,  fair  Musidora !" 

I  had  let  fall  my  frock,  and  it  clung  and  flapped  soak- 
ingly  against  my  naked  legs.  A  hot  red  vapor  seemed  to 
envelop  me  like  a  veil  of  shame.  The  power  of  motion 


288  JUDITH: 

with  that  of  speech  forsook  me.  I  had  a  wild  impulse 
to  fall,  face  foremost,  in  the  brook  and  drown  myself 
out  of  present  misery  and  a  life  that  had  grown  sud- 
denly dreadful.  I  heard  Miss  Harry  say  something 
hurried  and  inaudible,  and  the  sound  of  retreating  foot- 
steps. When  she  spoke  again  she  was  alone  and  stand- 
ing at  the  water's  edge. 

"Come  to  me,  dear,"  she  said,  soothingly.  "There 
is  no  harm  done.  Are  you  alone  ?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  faltered  I.  "  Uncle  Archie  brought 
me,  but  he  went  away." 

"  I  am  glad  he  did  !"  She  was  wringing  and  shaking 
out  the  wet  hem  of  my  petticoats.  "  I  don't  want  him 
or  anybody  else  to  know  that  I  am  here.  I  am  not  sorry 
to  have  a  chance  of  a  talk  with  you.  Sit  down  by  me, 
and  put  your  feet  on  that  mossy  stone.  They  will  soon 
dry  in  the  sun.  You  must  take  a  message  to  your 
uncle  from  me.  But  do  not  deliver  it  until  you  hear  that 
I  have  gone  away.  Do  you  understand  me,  Judith  ?" 

I  nodded  obediently,  staring  right  at  her,  not  yet  col- 
lected enough  to  gather  any  other  sense  from  the  words 
than  the  ear  caught  mechanically.  She  was  very  pale, 
and  spoke  in  a  thin,  unsteady  voice,  not  at  all  like  her 
own.  While  talking  she  tore  off  the  tawny  bark  from 
the  willow  wands  nearest  her,  divided  the  strips  into 
threads,  and  tossed  them  into  the  water. 

"  Tell  him  not  to  blame  me.  That  I  am  driven  to  it. 
That  I  receive  neither  justice  nor  mercy  from  my  father 
and  brothers.  That  when  the  information  for  which  they 
have  written  to  England  comes — and  it  cannot  get  here 
under  three  months — they  will  be  no  better  satisfied 
than  they  are  now.  They  will  pretend  to  believe  the 
letters  forgeries  or  falsehoods.  They  are  determined 
not  to  be  convinced.  There  is  but  one  way  to  force  the 
truth  upon  them.  I  must  go  myself  to  Fairwold  Hall, 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          289 

irad  write  to  them  from  there.  Sidney  objects  to  my 
talking  to  your  uncle.  He  says,  '  Archie  is  too  easy 
with  you.  He  encourages  you  to  be  headstrong.'  But 
tell  him  to  go  to  my  father,  when  I  have  gone,  and 
make  him  understand  that  he  will  not  hear  from  me 
until  I  can  date  my  letter  from  the  house  he  tells  me 
has  no  place  on  earth  outside  of  my  imagination.  My 
father  was  never  unkind  to  me  before.  I  never  had  a 
harsh  word  from  him.  He  would  not  kiss  me  when  1 
went  to  bed  last  night,  because  I  would  not  pledge  my 
word  to  hold  no  communication  with  Mr.  Waring  until 
we  should  hear  from  England.  Sidney  and  I  do  not 
speak  to  one  another,  and  poor  Di  cries  all  the  time. 
Even  Rod,  who  used  to  take  my  part  in  all  our  disputes, 
writes  from  Philadelphia  that  he  will  never  own  me  as 
a  sister  again  if  I  do  not  give  up  what  he  calls  "  a  dis- 
graceful fancy."  He  says  he  has  not  been  able  to  study 
or  sleep  since  he  first  heard  of  it.  They  are  killing  me 
by  fast  inches  !  Look  at  my  hands  !" 

She  bared  her  wrists.  The  veins  stood  out  high  and 
blue,  the  muscles  showed  whitely. 

"  In  three  months  I  should  not  be  worth  any  man's 
taking.  They  will  have  hounded  me  into  my  grave,  or 
the  mad-house.  Sometimes  I  wonder  if  I  am  quite 
sane.  I  don't  know  myself  as  the  Harry  Macon  who 
was  so  happy  last  Christmas." 

She  had  rushed  on  in  the  review  of  her  wrongs  with 
the  impetuosity  of  one  who  must  have  the  relief  of 
speech  in  a  sympathizing  ear.  N"ow,  she  pulled  herself 
up  and  tried  to  seem  calm. 

"  You  won't  forget  what  I  have  told  you,  Judith  ?" 

"It  is  a  great  deal  to  remember,"  uttered  I,  in  my 
old-womanish  way.  "  But  I  will  try.  It  is  dreadful 
that  they  treat  you  so  unkindly — "  winding  my  arms 
about  her  as  if  their  weak  strain  could  stay  the  breaking 


290  JUDITH: 

heart.  "Why  don't  you  come  to  Summerfield  to  stay? 
Xobody  is  cruel  to  anybody  there.  And  we  are  all  de- 
voted to  you.  Don't  you  think  Uncle  Archie  could  do 
something  for  you  ?  He  always  does  help  'most  every- 
body." 

"He  can't  help  me,  dear.  If  he  could,  he  would. 
God  bless  him  for  the  truest  friend  I  ever  had  !  Tell 
him  that  too,  Judith !  That  if  I  were  on  my  death- 
bed, I  should  still  pray  that  God  would  bless  him  and 
give  him  the  desire  of  his  heart.  Say  that  just  as  I  do 
— 'the  desire  of  his  heart  and  the  light  of  his  eyes,' — 
those  dear,  honest,  tender  eyes  !  He  will  know  what  I 
mean. 

"  Now  I  must  go  1  Papa  and  Sidney  are  off  at  court 
to-day,  or  I  should  not  have  been  able  to  leave  the  plan- 
tation without  the  escort  of  one  of  them.  They  dog 
me  like  my  shadow.  I  may  not  see  you  in  a  long  time 
again,  Sweetbrier.  But  you  are  a  darling,  and  a  com- 
fort, and  my  own  friend  wherever  I  may  be.  Some  day 
I  shall  beg  to  have  you  for  a  whole  year,  all  to  myself, 
and  come  for  you.  Don't  breathe  a  word  of  having  met 
me  until — you  know  when.  Then,  give  my  love  to 
Grandma,  Aun£  Betsey  and  Maria,  and  ask  them  to 
think  as  well  of  me  as  they  can.  And  don't  let  any- 
body teach  you  to  hate  me  and  call  me  ugly  names. 
Good-by,  darling !" 

She  clasped  me  closely  to  her  breast,  kissed  me  over 
and  over.  In  the  midst  of  my  stupefaction,  the  thought 
crept  into  my  mind  that  it  was  as  the  puny  representa- 
tive of  all  she  was  deserting — home-loves  and  friends 
and  girlhood'a  affluence  of  gayety  and  triumph — that  I 
received  the  griefful  passion  of  her  caress.  At  last  she 
let  me  go,  and  walked  away  very  fast  down  a  disused 
cart-road,  now  overgrown  with  coarse  herbage.  Almost 
at  the  end  of  the  vista  thus  formed,  I  descried  a  woman 


OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          291 

on  horseback  holding  two  horses  beside  her  own,  and 
knew  her  for  Apphia  by  the  gay  turban  and  parti-col- 
ored dress.  Mr.  Waring  joined  Miss  Harry  before  she 
had  gone  far.  I  watched  them  as  they  mounted  and 
rode  off,  Miss  Harry  waving  a  handkerchief  in  farewell 
to  the  abject  speck  of  humanity  gazing  at  her  from  the 
bank  of  the  stream. 

Shaken,  stunned  and  sick,  I  followed  the  brook  back 
to  my  mossy  seat,  keeping  ashore.  I  loathed  the  thought 
6f  wading  as  I  would  have  shrunk  from  banjo-music  at 
a  funeral.  Twice  I  stumbled  over  prostrate  logs,  my 
ankles  and  feet  were  torn  by  mats  and  ropes  of  trailing 
bamboo,  or  "  cat-brier."  I  washed  the  bloody  scratches 
in  the  warm  water  and  drew  on  my  stockings,  sobbing 
bitterly  all  the  while.  The  cup  of  childish  woe  had 
been  dangerously  full  many  times  within  this  eventful 
year.  It  streamed  over,  now,  in  torrents.  Miss  Harry 
meant  to  run  away  to  be  married  !  I  had  heard  of  such 
flights  over  the  Virginia  border  into  North  Carolina  or 
Maryland.  In  our  State  the  consent  of  parents  or  guar- 
dian was  essential  to  the  legality  of  a  minor's  marriage. 
Most  fathers  forgave  offenses  of  this  sort,  and  no  ob- 
loquy was  attached  to  the  contracting  parties.  Still  I 
wept  out  of  the  soreness  of  a  new  distrust.  I  had  sud- 
denly conceived  a  prejudice  against  Mr.  Waring.  I  did 
not  believe  that  the  real  Prince  would  have  accosted  me 
as  "Musidora."  He  may  not  have  suspected  that  I 
had  read  "Thomson's  Seasons,"  but  he  might  have 
taken  it  for  granted  that  Miss  Harry  had.  Musidora 
was,  in  my  opinion,  a  very  careless,  if  not  an  improper 
young  woman,  her  Damon  an  impudent  spy,  and  the 
story  anything  but  a  nice  one.  Uncle  Archie  would 
not  have  alluded  to  it  in  the  presence  of  ladies,  nor 
would  Captain  Macon  or  his  sons.  What  if  they  were 
nearer  right,  after  all,  in  their  views  of  her  love-affair 


292  JUDITH: 

than  was  she  who  sacrificed  everything  to  follow  this 
man's  fortunes  ? 

My  eyes  were  red,  my  cheeks  blotched  by  tears  when 
my  protector  returned  and  proposed  to  share  my  lunch 
of  ginger-cakes  and  apples. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?"  he  broke  off  the  sentence  to 
inquire,  catching  a  glimpse  of  my  averted  face. 

I  shook  my  head,  my  feelings  knotting  up  hard  in  my 
throat,  my  lids  again  drenched. 

His  eyes  fell  on  my  damp  garments,  and  twinkled  ifr 
spite  of  his  kind  heart. 

"  Ah  !  I  see  I  Never  mind,  little  woman  !  I  should 
enjoy  a  wade  myself  this  morning.  The  water  is  just 
right.  I  '11  speak  to  Aunt  Maria  about  the  wet  frock  !" 

I  overheard  him,  in  my  flight  up  to  my  room  on  reach- 
ing home,  explain  to  his  sister  that  "  the  poor  child  was 
almost  heart-broken  because  she  had  got  her  frock  in 
the  water  while  wading,"  and  I  fairly  hated  my  deceit- 
ful, ungrateful  self.  But  had  I  not  been  charged  to  keep 
silence  as  to  the  occurrences  of  the  forenoon  ? 

"  The  Beads  never  break  faith  !  The  Truehearts  do 
not  betray  trust  I"  gulped  I  magniloquently,  twisting 
my  short  arms  over  my  shoulders  to  button  up  the  dry 
gown  behind. 

The  aptness  of  the  phraseology  surprised  myself.  I 
had  not  read  "  Moral  Tales  "  twice  in  vain.  The  de- 
claration sounded  as  well  as  many  passages  of  "  Bob 
Roy,"  which  Uncle  Archie  was  reading  aloud  on  even- 
ings and  rainy  days. 

In  my  ignorance  of  ways,  means  and  the  conven- 
tionalities of  elopements,  I  believed  that  I  had  witnessed 
the  first  stage  of  the  fugitives'  journey.  The  third  day 
after  the  scene  at  the  creek  was  Sunday,  and  I  was  as- 
tounded by  the  apparition  of  the  bride-expectant  at  Old 
Singinsville,  pale  and  graver-eyed  than  usual,  but  evi- 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         293 

dently  still  Harry  Macon,  and  under  the  protection  of 
father  and  brother. 

Grandma  beckoned  Captain  Macon  to  our  carriage 
when  his  two  daughters  were  shut  up  in  theirs. 

"  Come  over  and  see  us  soon!  "she  half  whispered, 
leaning  out  of  the  window.  "I  have  a  little  friendly 
scolding  in  store  for  you.  You  must  not  take  it  amiss. 
I  am  afraid  you  are  handling  a  delicate  machine  a  little 
roughly.  It  is  too  valuable  to  be  trifled  with." 

The  grand  old  gray  head  sank  dejectedly. 

"  I  will  not  affect  to  misunderstand  you,  madam. 
Heaven  is  my  witness  how  thankfully  I  shall  listen  to 
counsel,  suggestion  or  rebuke  from  a  friend  so  judicious, 
a  woman  so  true-hearted  as  yourself.  I  confess  myself 
to  be  baffled  and  discouraged.  I  apprehend  that  we 
shall  agree  as  to  the  main  issue  involved  ?"  with  a  keen 
interrogatory  look. 

"  There  can  be  little  difference  of  opinion  on  that 
head  between  sensible  people.  But  the  parting  with  the 
right  eye  or  hand  must  always  seem  cruel  to  the  young. 
It  behooves  us  in  our  age  and  experience  to  be  merciful 
and  tender.  I  will  not  detain  you.  Maria  will  drive 
over  to-morrow  to  beg  a  week's  visit  from  Harry.  You 
will  trust  her  with  us  ?" 

"  Gratefully,  madam  !  I  could  ask  no  wiser  mentors, 
no  gentler  physicians  to  a  mind  diseased.  I  will  not 
mention  the  projected  visit  to  poor  Harriet.  She  views 
with  a  jaundiced  eye  every  subject  broached  by  me. 
May  He  who  knows  men's  hearts  and  sees  the  bitter- 
ness of  mine,  in  His  own  good  time  unseal  her  eyes  I" 

"  Amen  !"  responded  the  venerable  sisters,  as  he  re- 
treated with  one  of  his  incomparable  reverences. 

Miss  Harry's  coming  was  discussed  at  our  supper- 
table  that  evening.  There  should  be  a  "  dining-day  " 
on  Tuesday  at  Summerfield  of  the  young  people  she 


294  JUDITH: 

liked  best.  A  fishing-party  on  Read's  mill-pond  was 
planned  for  Wednesday,  a  horseback  excursion  and  din- 
ner in  Burwell's  woods,  fifteen  miles  away,  for  Thursday; 
Aunt  Maria  proposed  to  take  her  guest  on  Friday  to 
Bellair  to  visit  my  mother,  the  early  friend  and  ally  of 
the  refractory  beauty,  and  remain  there  over  the  Sab- 
bath. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  this  junketing  talk  is  quite 
the  thing  for  Sunday,"  demurred  Aunt  Betsey  in  the 
course  of  the  consultation. 

"  '  The  Sabbath  is  to  be  sanctified  by  a  holy  resting 
all  that  day,  even  from  such  worldly  employments  and 
recreations  as  are  lawful  on  other  days,  and  spending 
the  whole  time  in  the  public  and  private  exercises  of 
God's  worship,'  "  quoted  Grandma  from  the  "Westmin- 
ster Shorter  Catechism,  and,  with  judicial  impressive- 
ness,  "  '  except  so  much  as  is  to  be  taken  up  in  the  works 
of  necessity  and  mercy ! '  The  Master  would  say,  I  think, 
that  it  is  lawful  to  save  life,  and  what  is  better  than  life 
— happiness — on  His  holy  day." 

Aunt  Maria's  colored  class  met  to  be  catechised  on 
Sunday  nights  in  the  dining-room.  I  sat  by  Mammy, 
and  answered  in  my  turn.  I  remember  distinctly  one 
question  that  fell  to  her  on  this  particular  evening.  In 
her  Sabbath-day  garb  of  black  bombazine,  a  snowy  tur- 
ban bound  about  her  head,  and  as  white  a  'kerchief 
crossed  on  her  bosom,  she  sat,  as  dignified  and  upright 
as  her  mistress  would  have  done,  at  the  top  of  the 
room,  on  the  alert  to  quell  the  restlessness  or  antics  of 
the  juniors  by  a  glance,  yet  devoutly  attentive  to  the 
lesson. 

"  '  What  are  the  benefits  which,  in  this  life,  do  ac- 
company or  flow  from  Justification,  Adoption  and  Sanc- 
tification  ?'  "  asked  Aunt  Maria's  silvery  voice. 

There  was  a  soundless  flutter  of  exultation  among 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          295 

such  idle  younglings  as  Gabriel  and  Michael  when  what 
they  denominated  "one  o'  them  long  fellows"  was 
drawn  by  Mammy.  It  struck  off  one  from  their  list  of 
probable  discomfitures,  and  there  was  sublimity  in  her 
acceptance  of  her  fate,  music  in  her  sonorous  enuncia- 
tion of  the  pregnant  sentences.  Her  black  eyes  sought 
a  fixed  spot  pretty  high  up  on  the  opposite  wall.  Her 
folded  hands  were  motionless  while  she  replied  slowly 
and  reverently,  pausing  to  mark  each  division  of  topics, 
and  rising  in  a  noble  crescendo  to  the  emphatic  finale : 

"  'The  benefits  which,  in  this  life,  do  accompany  or 
flow  from  Justification,  Adoption  and  Sanctification 
are:  Assurance  of  God's  love,  peace  of  conscience,  joy 
in  the  Holy  Ghost,  increase  of  grace,  and  perseverance 
therein  to  the  End  I"1  " 

It  helped  one  to  comprehend  what  the  End  would  be 
to  such  sincere  and  steadfast  souls  as  hers  to  hear  the  unc- 
tion with  which  Mammy  brought  out  those  last  words. 

The  drill  was  highly  satisfactory  that  evening.  Those 
who  generally  fell  halt  or  lame  by  the  way  had  extraor- 
dinary liberty  of  speech,  and  the  proficient  were  glib  be- 
yond precedent.  All  united  in  the  last  hymn  with  stout 
lungs  and  approving  consciences.  The  words  were  such 
as  especially  delectate  the  negro  imagination : 

"Lo  !  on  a  narrow  neck  of  land, 
'Twixt  two  unbounded  seas  I  stand, 

Yet  how  insensible  ! 
A  point  of  time,  a  moment's  space 
Removes  me  to  yon  heavenly  place, 

Or — shuts  me  up  in  hell !" 

The  devout  hymnist  of  the  time  saw  no  incongruity 
in  singing  what  he  believed  and  held  for  certain.  I 
could  close  my  eyes  as  they  rolled  out  the  dolorous  can- 
ticle, and  picture  it  all  to  myself.  The  neck  of  land  was 
the  Isthmus  of  Darien ;  the  vexed  Atlantic  was  this 


296  JUDITH: 

life ;  the  sunny  hazes  of  the  Pacific  took  shape  into 
gleaming  columns  and  airy  domes,  and  walls  of  jasper, 
sapphire,  chalcedony,  emerald,  sardonyx,  sardins, 
chrysolite,  beryl,  topaz,  chrysoprasus,  jacinth  and  ame- 
thyst. Hell  moved  beneath  me,  even  while  my  eyes 
dwelt  upon  the  celestial  battlements,  and  so  near  that  I 
could  hear  the  bellowings  of  the  volcanic  fires. 

Aunt  Maria's  taste  was  for  gentler  themes.  The 
curdling  of  blood,  the  shiver  of  spirit  and  flesh  attend- 
ant upon  the  contemplation  of  the  abodes  of  the  finally 
impenitent  were  distress  and  personal  pain  to  her. 
She  let  her  sable  disciples  sing  the  hymns  selected  by 
themselves,  then  lifted  her  pale,  pure  face  from  the  hand 
that  had  supported  and  shaded  it. 

"  Let  us  pray  !" 

We  all  knelt  and  repeated  with  her  as  one  voice,  "Our 
Father  who  art  in  Heaven  1" 

She  sent  them  away  with  the  "Glory  forever  and 
ever !"  in  ear  and  heart. 

Mine  was  the  additional  treat  of  having  her  sit  beside 
me  and  talk  of  Bible  stories  and  Christian's  arrival  at  the 
Celestial  City,  and  most  in  detail  of  what  I  had  been 
reading  that  day  as  the  portion  of  the  Scripture  lesson 
in  course — the  history  of  Jezebel's  crimes  and  fate.  I 
recollect  asking  her  what  was  the  meaning  of  "  tired 
her  head  and  looked  out  at  a  window." 

"  Oh  1"  said  I,  disappointed  on  learning  that  the  royal 
murderess  had  assumed  her  most  becoming  head-dress. 
"I  thought  she  leaned  against  the  window  as  you  do 
sometimes  when  you  are  tired.  I  saw  you  sitting  so  at 
the  school-room  window  to-day  while  I  was  reading  that 
very  verse.  I  should  think  you  would  be  lonely  in  there, 
Aunt  Maria  !  I  can't  bear  the  place.  The  desks  and 
benches,  and  especially  Mr.  Bradley 's  chair,  make  it  aU 
seem  so  desolate." 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         297 

"It  is  a  quiet  place,  dear,  and  one  likes  to  be  alone 
and  still  when  she  is  reading  or  thinking.  But  it  is 
time  you  were  asleep.  I  will  put  out  the  light  and  stay 
with  you  awhile." 

The  graceful  outline  of  her  head  and  neck  against  the 
moonlit  window  faded  into  and  mingled  with  dreams  in 
which  Mr.  Bradley  and  Jehu  were  oddly  associated  and 
Jezebel  toppled  over  on  the  uncomfortable  side  of  the 
"neck  of  land."  A  soothing  blank,  fraught  with  re- 
freshment, followed,  and  I  unclosed  my  young  eyes  upon 
a  bright,  fragrant  morning. 

Aunt  Maria,  in  her  white  night-dress,  her  hair  loos- 
ened on  her  shoulders  as  she  had  shaken  it  down  for 
combing,  stood  motionless  and  pallid  in  the  sunlight, 
transfixed  by  the  tale  Mammy  was  narrating. 

"  It  is  too  true,  honey !  Mars'  Sidney  was  here  by 
sunrise  to  see  Mars'  Archie  'bout  it,  pretty  nigh  crazy, 
too — pore  young  gentleman !  Heby — Miss  Diana's  maid 
• — she  'twas  foun'  it  out,  when  thar  was  no  signs  o' 
Apphia  comin'  down  sta'rs  to  fotch  up  water  for  Miss 
Harry's  room.  So  she  went  up  to  see  what  was  the 
matter,  an'  lo,  an'  behole  !  Miss  Harry's  bed  hadn't 
been  slep'  in  all  night,  an'  Apphia,  she  was  gone  too-. 
They  mus'  'a'  stole  off  'bout  ten  o'clock,  for  Cap'n  Ma- 
con's  Rube,  he  was  goin'  home  from  seein'  his  sweet- 
heart, one  of  Mr.  James  Carrington's  house-servants, 
an'  met  a  strange  carriage  in  the  road,  near  'leven. 
Mars'  Archie  had  his  horse  saddled  right  off  and  rode 
back  with  him  to  Hunter's  Res'.  I  heerd  Mars'  Sidney 
say  that  his  father  was  threatened  with  somethin'  like 
a  fit,  an'  pore  Miss  Diana  was  goin'  from  one  faint  to 
another.  Miss  Harry  may  have  had  a  good  deal  to  b'ar, 
but  she  'd  never  'a'  gone  off  with  the  bes'  man  livin'  ef 
she  could  'a'  foreseen  the  misery  she  'd  leave  behin'  her. 
The  Lord  be  more  merciful  to  the  pore  dear  lamb  than 
she 's  been  to  them  that 's  nearest  o'  kin  to  her !" 


298  JUDITH: 


CHAPTEE  XIX. 

THE  drouth  that  visited  certain  counties  in  Central 
and  Southern  Virginia  in  August  and  September  of 
1832  may  not  have  been  exceptionally  severe,  but  the 
accessories  and  incidents  of  the  calamity  stand  out  with 
lurid  distinctness  in  my  memory.  For  fifty-seven  days 
not  a  drop  of  rain  fell  on  the  Summerfield  plantation. 
The  sun  was  a  copper  ball ;  the  moon  wan  and  sickly. 
The  dust  of  the  public  roads  was  half  a  foot  deep,  and 
floated,  a  reddish  powder,  in  the  atmosphere.  The  long 
leaves  of  the  maize  twisted  more  and  more  tightly, 
hung  wilted  and  prone  against  the  stems,  until  the  un- 
ripe ears  perished  in  the  dried  "  shucks, "  and  stalks 
and  leaves  were  cut  for  foddering  the  cattle.  Pasture- 
fields  were  sere  and  blackened  as  by  fire.  The  lean  kine 
tore  up  grass  roots  and  chewed  them  to  extract  what 
succulence  the  baked  earth  had  left  in  the  fibrous 
threads.  Small  streams  disappeared  entirely,  and  many 
large  ones  were  but  a  succession  of  shrinking  pools 
connected  by  ooze  creeping  sluggishly  among  the  hot 
stones.  Almost  every  mill  in  the  district  hung  upon 
the  outer  wall  a  useless  wheel  with  blistered  rim  and 
warping  flanges. 

By  the  middle  of  September  the  forests  of  deciduous 
trees  were  of  a  dull  brown,  and  the  blackish  verdure  of 
the  pines  opposed  a  funereal  contrast.  Petitions  were 
offered  in  all  the  churches  for  rain.  Mr.  Watt  and  Mr. 
Burgess  cried  out  to  the  Lord  in  the  great  congregation 
that  "  the  heavens  over  our  head  were  as  brass,  and 
the  earth  that  was  under  us  was  as  iron  ;  that  the  rain 
of  our  land  was  as  powder  and  dust."  With  all  the 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         299 

energy  of  men  whose  own  farms  eked  out  salaries  which 
were  inadequate  to  the  support  of  large  and  growing 
families,  they  besought  mercy  upon  a  people  chastised 
for  their  sins  and  rewarded  according  to  their  iniquities. 
The  periodical  August  "  protracted  meeting  "  at  Old 
Singinsville  was  a  season  of  fasting,  humiliation  and 
prayer,  participated  in  by  multitudes  who  plowed  and 
waded  through  the  choking  dust  of  the  highways  to 
unite  the  weight  of  their  lamentations  and  supplica- 
tions. 

Dearth  and  drouth  were  at  their  worst  when  there 
was  brought  one  evening  from  the  post-office  to  Uncle 
Archie,  a  thick  packet  directed  in  Mr.  Bradley's  hand, 
and  post-marked  "  New  York."  It  was  opened  while 
we  were  at  supper,  and  proved  to  contain,  besides  a 
letter,  a  mammoth  poster,  setting  forth  the  unparal- 
leled attractions  of  a  circus  troupe  performing  nightly 
in  Montreal.  Among  the  "  stars  "  was  included  "  MB. 
FREDERICK  TREVELYAN,  late  of  Van  Amburg's  Cele- 
brated Company,  the  World-Eenowned  Acrobat  and 
Rider,  best  known  in  Europe  and  America  as  the 
'Modern  Phoebus.' " 

Had  the  gorgeous  apparition  in  white  and  silver  that 
carried  the  Richmond  spectators  by  storm  alighted 
among  the  china  and  silver  of  our  country  tea-table, 
the  sensation  would  hardly  have  been  more  pronounced 
than  that  produced  by  the  glaring  advertisement  of  his 
return  to  his  former  profession.  Up  to  that  moment 
there  had  smouldered  in  the  breasts  of  us  all  some  belief 
in  the  truth  of  his  pretensions  to  gentlemanhood. 

In  the  farewell  note  to  her  sister  found  in  Harry's 
room,  she  had  stated  that  they  were  on  the  eve  of  de- 
parture for  England,  their  passage  being  already  taken 
in  the  packet  which  would  sail  the  next  week;  also, 
that  she  would  not  write  again  until  she  could  date  her 


300  JUDITH: 

letter  from  Fairwold  Hall.  Mr.  "Waring  had  inclosed 
the  certificate  of  the  marriage  (performed  at  Washing- 
ton) in  a  dignified  dispatch  to  Captain  Macon,  saying 
that,  should  he  desire  to  communicate  with  his  daugh- 
ter, or  to  send  any  articles  belonging  to  her,  Mr.  War- 
ing's  agent  in  Baltimore,  whose  address  was  given, 
would  take  charge  of  letter  or  parcel.  Within  a  day 
after  the  receipt  of  this  epistle  everything  the  mis- 
guided girl  had  called  her  own  in  her  father's  house, 
even  to  her  half-worn  shoes,  was  packed  under  Captain 
Macon's  eye  and  dispatched  as  directed.  Upon  a  sheet 
of  paper  laid  within  the  great  case,  the  Captain  wrote, 
steadying  the  hand  that  had  heen  tremulous  since  the 
hour  in  which  he  discovered  his  child's  flight : 

"When  Harriet  writes  to  me  I  shall  answer  her  letter. 
Communications  on  her  behalf  penned  by  another  will  re- 
ceive no  notice." 

This  circus  bill,  "  stripped  from  a  street  wall  in  Mon- 
treal," wrote  Mr.  Bradley,  "was  ten  days  old  when  I 
tore  it  off." 

It  was  the  only  hint  Harry's  friends  had  had  of  the 
whereabouts  of  the  pair  since  the  receipt  of  the  certifi- 
cate. 

Uncle  Archie  sent  Jerry,  the  butler,  from  the  room 
and  read  the  New  York  letter  aloud.  Mr.  Bradley  had 
entered  a  law  office  in  Philadelphia  at  the  close  of  his 
school  term  in  July.  Aunt  Betsey  had  heard  from  him 
twice ;  he  had  sent  a  paper  to  Aunt  Maria,  marking 
several  articles  to  attract  her  eye,  and  written  once  be- 
fore to  Uncle  Archie  since  leaving  Richmond.  He  was 
a  good  friend  and  correspondent  of  the  family  of  which 
he  had  once  formed  a  part.  He  stated  now  that  he  had 
spared  no  pains  to  collect  information  respecting  the 
movements  of  the  company,  which  had  left  Montreal 
before  his  arrival  in  that  city,  but  his  efforts  had  been 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          301 

indifferently  successful.  That  "Frederick  Trevelyan  " 
was  John  Waring,  and  not  a  transferred  title  to  another 
member  of  Van  Amburg's  troupe,  was  made  altogether 
certain  by  the  descriptions  he  received  of  his  person 
and  performances.  If  he  had  a  wife  the  fact  was  not 
known  to  his  public.  Nor  could  Mr.  Bradley  obtain 
definite  intelligence  as  to  the  route  taken  by  the  circus 
when  the  Montreal  engagement  was  concluded. 

"  I  must  take  this  over  to  Hunter's  Rest  to-morrow," 
sighed  Uncle  Archie,  folding  up  poster  and  letter. 

A  troubled  silence  ensued.  The  pale  anxiety  in  the 
brother's  face  had  a  reflection  in  that  of  the  sister, 
bowed  mournfully  over  the  slender  finger  that  followed 
the  pattern  of  the  damask  table-cloth.  Neither  was 
looking  well  this  summer.  The  harassing  cares  and 
anxieties  incident  to  the  drouth  explained  this,  in  part, 
but  to  my  senses,  preternaturally  quickened  by  the 
events  of  the  eaily  spring,  there  was  something  beneath 
and  back  of  the  grave  quiet  that  had  become  habitual 
to  them. 

In  the  long,  serious  talk  Uncle  Archie  held  with  me 
when  I  delivered  the  message  left  for  him  by  Miss 
Harry,  he  had  exculpated  me  from  conscious  error  in 
concealing  my  knowledge  of  the  projected  elopement. 
He  was  not  one  to  reason  out  of  a  straight  line ; 
had  little  knowledge  of  and  no  patience  with  the 
shool  of  ethics  that  blends  motives  and  tones  down 
principles. 

"  We  have  trained  the  child  to  mind  her  own  busi- 
ness and  to  speak  the  truth,"  he  said  when  Aunt  Betsey 
"wished  that  the  plot  had  been  revealed  in  time  to 
hinder  the  dear,  infatuated  girl  from  sealing  her  de- 
struction." "  She  was  told  to  hold  her  tongue,  and  she 
held  it.  She  must  not  be  blamed." 

Nevertheless,  I  stole  after  him  as  he  left  the  table 


302  JUDITH: 

and  went  out  upon  the  back  porch — slipped  my  fingers 
timidly  into  his. 

"  Are  you  displeased  with  me,  Uncle  Archie  ?" 

He  passed  his  hand  over  my  hair,  but  his  speech  was 
brief. 

"  No,  child  !  I  am  thinking.     Kun  away  now !" 

I  withdrew  to  the  end  of  the  piazza,  and,  drawing 
myself  up  against  the  wall  to  be  out  of  his  beat  as  he 
walked,  lay  down  at  full  length  on  the  cool,  oaken  floor. 
I  was  never  robust,  and  the  dry,  unvarying  heat  of  the 
weather  weakened  me  more  than  my  elders  suspected. 
Silent  tears  wetted  the  boards  under  my  cheek.  The 
world  was  getting  to  be  a  dreary  home.  An  unlovely 
one,  as  I  saw  it  to-night,  the  withered  vines  drooping 
in  the  stirless  air,  the  faint  moon  wistfully  surveying 
blighted  fields  from  which  no  harvest-songs  would  arise 
this  year.  I  could  scarcely  draw  breath  in  the  radiated 
heat  thrown  off  by  the  earth  after  the  torrid  day. 

Presently  a  slim  white  figure  joined  the  solitary 
promenader,  leaned  on  his  offered  arm  as  if  the  support 
were  needed. 

"My  letter  was  from  Richmond,"  I  heard  her  say, 
and,  for  several  turns,  nothing  more. 

"Well  1"  from  Uncle  Archie,  at  last — calm,  and  not 
inquisitive. 

"It  is  not  a  long  letter,  and,  like  her  last,  somewhat 
dispirited.  Something  weighs  on  her  heart,  although 
she  does  not  say  so.  She  writes  of  commonplace  affairs  ; 
is  sorry  the  drouth  is  so  much  worse  here  than  in  Rich- 
mond ;  hopes  it  will  not  entirely  destroy  the  tobacco 
and  corn  crops ;  asks  if  Diana  Macon  has  gone  to  the 
White  Sulphur  Springs  yet ;  if  Roderick  is  taking  a 
summer  course  in  Philadelphia ;  if  we  ever  hear  from 
Mr.  Bradley  and  how  he  is  getting  on,  and  half  a  dozen 
other  questions  as  fast  as  she  can  run  them  off.  I  could 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          308 

imagine  that  she  did  it  to  make  sure  that  my  answer 
should  not  deal  with  personal  and  confidential  matters. 
I  don't  understand  her  at  all ;  unless — she  regrets  the 
answer  sent  to  your  letter  !" 

"  Nothing  is  less  probable  !"  quickly  and  positively. 
"It  is  more  likely  that  she  fears  lest  your  feelings  may 
be  changed  in  consequence  of  her  correspondence  with 
me." 

"I  reassured  her  on  that  point  weeks  ago.  The 
change  I  speak  of  has  come  on  lately.  It  is  never  easy 
to  get  at  her  hidden  hurt,  when  she  has  one.  She  is 
unselfish  even  in  this.  For  instance,  she  has  never  inti- 
mated to  me  that  her  home  is  not  altogether  pleasant. 
Yet  Mrs.  Dabney's  peculiarities  must  be  a  severe  trial." 

"  She  dreads  to  inflict  pain.    J  ought  to  know  that !" 

Aunt  Betsey's  appearance  in  the  doorway  with  the 
original  observation  that  the  weather  was  "really 
alarmingly  dry,"  checked  farther  confidences.  The  dear 
woman  walked  to  the  edge  of  the  porch-floor,  pulled  a 
bit  of  the  dying  vine  from  the  trellis  and  sighed  audibly. 

"  '  The  wicked  walk  on  every  side,  and  the  vilest 
men  are  exalted  !'  What  with  the  chances  of  Jackson's 
re-election  and  the  almost  certainty  of  civil  war  should 
that  come  to  pass  (for  South  Carolina  could  not  be  paci- 
fied), and  the  drouth  and  sorrow  and  disgrace  in  so 
many  homes — I  am  continually  reminded  of  that  pass- 
age in  Habakkuk,  '  Thou  didst  march  through  the  land 
in  indignation.  Thou  didst  thresh  the  heathen  in 
anger.'  " 

"Ah !  but  you  forget  the  ending  of  the  same  chapter. " 

Aunt  Maria  had  left  her  brother's  arm  and  leaned  on 
the  porch-railing,  her  colorless  face  lifted  to  the  moon, 
the  very  picture  of  purity  and  peacefulness.  She  so 
rarely  gave  utterance  to  the  strong  feelings  that  upbore 
and  made  stable  her  lovely  equanimity  of  temper  and 


304  JUDITH: 

demeanor,  that  Aunt  Betsey  turned  toward  her  in  sur- 
prise when  she  began  to  speak. 

"  '  Although  the  fig  tree  shall  not  blossom,'  "  she  re- 
cited slowly  and  softly,  "  'neither  shall  fruit  be  in  the 
vines  ;  the  labor  of  the  olive  shall  fail  and  the  fields 
shall  yield  no  meat ;  the  flock  shall  be  cut  off  from  the 
fold,  and  there  shall  be  no  herd  in  the  stalls  ;  yet  will 
I  rejoice  in  the  Lord,  I  will  joy  in  the  God  of  my  salva- 
tion !'  " 

She  passed  down  the  steps  in  her  rustleless  white 
gown,  like  a.  ray  of  moonlight,  and  across  the  yard  to 
Mammy's  cottage,  aunt  and  brother  watching  her  in 
silence. 

"  She  lives  very  near  I"  uttered  Aunt  Betsey  at 
length,  shaking  her  head.  "  Very  close  to  her  Master. 
And  the  refining  has  gone  on  rapidly  of  late.  He  must 
see  the  reflection  of  His  face  with  hardly  a  blur." 

"  You  have  observed  it,  too,  have  you  ?  I  thought  it 
might  be  a  notion  of  mine — some  peculiarity  in  my  own 
mood,  that  made  her  seem  dearer  and  sweeter  than 
ever." 

"  Ah,  the  dear  child  has  enough  to  grieve  her,  with 
her  sympathetic,  loving  nature  !"  answered  Aunt  Bet- 
sey. "  She  takes  her  friends'  troubles  sadly  to  heart — 
weeps  with  those  that  weep  as  if  the  affliction  were  her 
own." 

Uncle  Archie  resumed  his  walk,  head  bent  and  hands 
crossed  behind  him.  Was  he  remorseful  that  he  had 
shared  his  sorrow  with  this  tender  spirit  ? 

Presently  he  stopped  abruptly,  and  picked  me  up 
bodily. 

"  We  must  contrive  some  means  to  make  this  bird- 
ling  eat  more,  Aunt  Betsey  I  She  doesn't  come  up  to 
'hag's  weight !' ' 

"  What  is  that  ?"  asked  I,  half  fearfully,  yet  diverted. 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          305 

"  Eighty  pounds.  If  you  go  on  in  this  way  I  shall 
be  able  soon  to  carry  you  on  my  little  finger  as  I  would 
a  feather.  It  is  your  bedtime  now.  I  am  going  over 
to  Hunter's  Rest  very  early  in  the  morning.  Don't 
you  want  a  ride  ?  You  needn't  speak !  I  can  see  your 
eyes  in  the  moonlight.  Tell  Mammy  to  call  you  in  time, 
and  to  have  a  bowl  of  bread  and  milk  for  you  before  we 
set  off." 

His  cheery  tone  and  thoughtfulness  of  my  health  and 
pleasure  were  not  like  the  morbose  abstraction  of  a  dis- 
appointed lover. 

Nor  was  his  morning  mood.  He  had  set  aside  a 
steady  pony  for  my  use  early  in  the  year,  and  himself 
acted  as  my  riding-master.  My  habit  was  a  nankeen 
skirt  that  fell  a  few  inches  below  the  hem  of  my  gown, 
and  buttoned  all  the  way  down.  Before  I  alighted  from 
my  horse  after  a  ride  my  escort  unfastened  this  to  the  last 
button,  and  when  I  was  lifted  out  of  it,  threw  it  upon" 
the  saddle.  My  dress  was  in  all  other  respects  un- 
changed from  my  usual  attire.  The  close  cloth  jacket 
and  flowing  skirt,  the  man's  collar  and  hat  were  not 
adopted,  even  by  fashionable  equestrians  of  my  sex, 
until  a  decade  later. 

Uncle  Archie  examined  my  stirrup,  saddle-girth  and 
bridle,  and  settled  me  in  the  side-saddle  which  had  been 
used  by  two  generations  before  it  fell  to  me.  It  had 
but  one  pommel  and  a  small  black  horn ;  the  seat  was 
of  smooth,  hard  leather,  and  the  stirrup  open.  Over  my 
shoulders  was  pinned  a  nankeen  cape,  feather-stitched 
with  scarlet  crewel ;  on  my  arms  were  long  home-made 
gloves,  or  "  mitts,"  of  the  same  material,  similarly  em- 
broidered, that  left  my  fingers  bare  from  the  second 
knuckle  ;  a  white  cape-bonnet  covered  my  head.  My 
pony  was  an  easy  pacer.  Ladies  never  rode  trotters, 
nor  did  men  from  choice.  The  best  saddle-horses  were 


306  JUDITH: 

unbroken  to  harness,  and  trained  only  to  the  pace, 
canter,  gallop  and  run. 

The  morning  was  already  sultry,  but  Uncle  Archie 
raised  his  head  and  drew  in  a  long  breath  as  one  of  his 
hounds  would  have  snuffed  the  wind. 

"  '  All  signs  fail  in  dry  weather,'  or  I  should  say  that 
I  smell  rain,  and  not  far  off!" 

"  Would  it  save  the  tobacco  ?" 

We  were  jogging  along  between  the  melancholy  brown 
fields. 

"No." 

"  Nor  the  corn  ?" 

"  It  is  too  late  to  help  either." 

"What  will  j'ou  do  if  all  the  crops  fail,  Uncle 
Archie  ?" 

He  smiled  down  at  me,  his  face  as  tranquil  as  the 
dawn  against  which  the  distant  hills  stood  up  like  purple 
mounts  of  sacrifice,  the  sacred  fires  kindling  on  their 
altars. 

"You  heard  what  Aunt  Maria  said  last  night  ?  There 
is  but  one  trust  and  one  joy  that  never  fail  us,  Judith !" 

They  styled  such  talk  in  that  generation,  "  Conversa- 
tion on  the  Subject  of  Religion,"  and  young,  unregene- 
rate  people  held  themselves  aloof  from  the  holy  ground. 
Traditions  of  the  approach,  with  unsandaled  foot,  of 
the  mystic  preparation  of  the  soul,  typified  by  purifica- 
tion with  oil  of  myrrh  and  sweet  odors,  warned  off  the 
uninitiated.  "  The  awful  circle  of  the  church  "  was  no 
strained  metaphor  in  this  connection.  Those  who  loved 
the  Lord  and  had  confessed  Him  before  men,  spake 
often  one  to  another  when  age  and  sanctified  experience 
of  life  and  vital  godliness  had  opened  hearts  and  lips, 
but  even  they  were  not  wont  to  address  the  language  of 
the  Kingdom  to  the  unconverted  except  in  entreaty  and 
warning.  Within  two  years  I  had  been  adjudged  to  be 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          307 

indubitably  "  of  an  accountable  age  " — date  of  dread  to 
my  apprehension.  The  prayers  of  a  godly  ancestry 
could  not  save  my  shivering  soul,  nor  the  sweet  saintli- 
ness  of  my  living  kindred  reflect  one  ray  of  hope  upon 
the  dark  curtain  of  the  hereafter  I  could  not  escape.  I 
was  like  a  baby  torn  from  her  mother's  bosom  and  flung 
upon  a  weltering  deep  to  swim  or  drown  for  myself.  I 
was  a  "responsible  human  being,"  and  as  such,  had 
already  been  labored  with  at  a  protracted  meeting  by 
Mr.  Burgess  (whom  I  could  never  bear  afterward),  and 
a  Methodist  sister,  who  put  a  fat  arm  about  me  on  a  hot 
day,  as  she  adjured  me  to  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come, 
and  when  I  sobbed  piteously  with  nameless  terror  and 
excitement,  promised  to  remember  me  in  her  prayers. 
I  felt  that  the  Wesleyan  sister  had  taken  a  liberty,  being 
our  overseer's  wife,  and  uneducated,  whereas  we  were 
Presbyterian  gentlefolk  ;  but  she  was  less  objectionable 
than  Mr.  Burgess.  Hers  was  kindly  offlciousness,  since 
she  could  derive  no  benefit  personally  from  my  conver- 
sion. I  could  not  have  framed  into  words  my  idea  that 
Mr.  Burgess'  strivings  with  my  soul  were  perfunctory, 
and  that  his  salary  meant  so  much  per  head  for  every 
"addition  to  the  church."  In  portentous  gutturals  he 
held  forth  to  me  upon  my  carnal  mind  and  reprobate 
will,  and  bound  on  my  raw,  quivering  conscience  the 
load  of  my  "awful  obligation  as  a  child  of  the  cove- 
nant," to  make  my  calling  and  election  sure.  After  that 
I  never  truthfully  returned  thanks  that "  I  was  not  born 
a  heathen  child." 

Sweet  moisture  filled  my  eyes  as  Uncle  Archie  spoke. 
It  was  not  a  bit  like  preaching,  but  no  sermon  ever  fast- 
ened on  my  soul  such  conviction  that  he  who  delivered 
it  believed  thoroughly  in  the  truth  he  taught.  He  said 
"us,"  too,  as  if  including  me  \  I  felt  the  pressure  of  a 
mighty,  invisible  Arm  about  my  weak,  ignorant  self; 


308  JUDITH: 

the  stirring  of  a  new  hope  in  my  soul.  Uncle  Archie's 
religion  would  be  a  comfortable  thing  to  have.  Up  to 
that  hour  I  had  anticipated  the  throes  of  conviction, 
the  birth  of  conversion,  as  eminently  advisable.  In  plain 
terms,  they  were  the  essential  process  by  which  to  avoid 
the  eternal  agonies  of  the  "  shut-up  hell"  of  which  we 
sang.  But  in  this  life — short  and  uncertain  as  it  was 
• — how  good  to  know  that  faith  and  joy  would  never 
fail  us  I 

We  rode  on  the  margin  of  the  road-bed,  trampling 
pennyroyal  and  wooly-leaved  sheepmint  into  perfume, 
and  chatting  cheerfully  until  the  sight  of  Hunter's  Rest 
brought  up  strongly  the  thought  of  our  errand  with  the 
master  of  the  domain. 

It  was  a  dark-red  brick  house,  with  one  wooden  wing. 
A  railing  ran  along  the  outer  edge  of  the  square  roof  of 
the  main  building,  a  wide  piazza  across  the  lower  front- 
age. The  walks  of  a  spacious  yard  were  edged  with 
box,  the  aromatic  pungency  of  which  is  ever  associated 
in  my  mind  with  the  venerable  homestead.  The  sun 
was  beginning  to  draw  it  out  into  the  air  when  we  dis- 
counted at  the  yard-gate.  The  premises  were  strangely 
still.  Miss  Diana  and  Sidney  were  at  the  Springs. 
Roderick  was  walking  a  Philadelphia  hospital.  The 
windows  of  the  first  floor  were  wide  open,  but  not  a 
face  appeared  at  any  one  of  them.  Two  ancienfwatch- 
dogs  lay  on  the  gravel-walk,  and  looked  up  to  wag  their 
tails  as  Uncle  Archie  stepped  out  on  the  turf  to  avoid 
treading  on  them.  In  nearing  the  house  we  heard  the 
measured  voice  of  one  reading.  Uncle  Archie  signed 
to  me  to  walk  lightly  in  ascending  the  steps.  From 
the  porch-floor  we  had  a  view  of  the  interior  of  the 
large  parlor. 

Captain  Macon  sat  in  lonely  state  at  the  top  of  the 
room  in  the  arm-chair  he  had  occupied  at  family  wor< 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          309 

ship  for  a  quarter  of  a  century  when  his  growing  family 
gathered  about  him.  I  should  have  looked  twice  before 
recognizing  him  had  I  seen  him  anywhere  else.  Instead 
of  his  scarlet  coat,  he  wore  a  complete  suit  of  white 
flannel,  and  there  was  not  much  more  color  in  the  long 
hair  brushed  back  from  his  face.  The  greatest  change 
in  his  appearance  was  there.  The  florid  complexion 
had  faded  into  the  dead  hue  of  parchment  ;  the  fore- 
head was  crossed  by  tightly-pressed  plaits ;  the  skin 
hung  loose  from  the  square  chin.  His  dress  was  ar- 
ranged with  his  usual  military  precision,  even  to  the 
crimpled  frills  of  his  shirt-bosom.  He  sat  as  erect  as  a 
ramrod,  except  for  the  head  bowed  toward  the  big  Bible 
on  the  stand  before  him.  One  arm — the  right — lay 
straight  out  from  the  elbow  along  the  chair-arm,  which 
was  also  a^desk,  and  I  noticed  that  he  turned  the  leaves 
of  the  book  with  the  left  hand.  The  rotund  voice  had  a 
curious  sort  of  break  on  some  tones  that  frightened  me. 

He  was  reading  "  in  course,"  and  the  first  words  that 
entered  my  ears  were  these  : 

'"On  the  twelfth  day,  Ahira,  the  son  of  Enan,  prince 
of  the  children  of  Naphtali,  offered. 

'"His  offering  was  one  silver  charger,  the  weight 
whereof  was  a  hundred  and  thirty  shekels,  one  silver 
bowl  of  seventy  shekels  after  the  shekel  of  the  sanc- 
tuary ;  both  of  them  full  of  fine  flour  mingled  with  oil 
for  a  meat  offering. 

" '  One  golden  spoon  of  ten  shekels,  full  of  in- 
cense— '  " 

Uncle  Archie  and  I  sat  down  quietly  on  the  top  step. 
One  of  the  old  dogs  crept  mutely  up  to  us  and  crouched 
on  his  haunches,  his  muzzle  on  Uncle  Archie's  knee. 
In  a  plantation  of  cedars  to  the  left  of  the  lawn  a  wood- 
dove  moaned  fitfully  in  the  still  sultriness  that  had 
assumed  the  occupation  of  the  young  day.  Captain 


310  JUDITH: 

Macon  finished  the  morning  lesson,  announced  it  to  be 
"the  seventh  chapter  of  the  book  of  Numbers,"  and 
closed  the  Bible. 

"  We  will  sing  the  two  hundred  and  fourth  of  the 
'Village  Hymns,'  pursued  the  hortatory  accents. 

"  '  My  soul  doth  magnify  the  Lord, 

My  spirit  doth  rejoice 
In  GOD — my  Saviour  and  my  GOD  ; 
I  hear  His  joyful  voice.'  " 

He  gave  it  out,  two  lines  at  a  time,  and  sang  it  to 
the  tune  of  St.  Martin's,  beating  time  on  the  table  with 
his  left  hand. 

Then  he  said,  "Let  us  pray!"  and  we  heard  him 
kneel  slowly  and  with  difficulty,  as  a  lame  man  might. 
Uncle  Archie  removed  his  hat  and  leaned  his  forehead 
on  his  clasped  hands.  I  shut  my  eyes,  resting  my  cheek 
on  his  knee.  It  was  the  most  pathetic  act  of  worship  I 
have  ever  witnessed,  taken  in  connection  with  the  de- 
serted rooms  that  echoed  every  note  of  the  cracked 
voice  with  ostentatious  distinctness,  as  in  mockery  of 
the  contrast  between  the  exulting  words  and  the  singer's 
desolation. 

The  prayer  was  long  and  deliberately  enunciated. 
He  abated  nothing  of  his  ornate  phraseology  in  the 
Master's  audience-chamber.  He  adored  the  "  LORD  of 
lords  and  KHSTG  of  kings;"  confessed  "our  manifold 
sins  and  transgressions,"  returned  thanks  for  the  "mir- 
acle of  multiplied  and  undeserved  mercies,  new  every 
morning,  and  descending  like  plenteous  dew  with  the 
going  down  of  every  sun,"  and  supplicated  the  Divine 
blessing  on  "  all  classes  and  conditions  of  Adam's  race 
still  groaning  from  the  Fall — ground  into  the  dust  by 
their  own  sins  and  the  weight  of  transmitted  and  inher- 
ited iniquity." 

Thus  far  he  had  gone  on  evenly  with  the  freedom  of 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         811 

one  who  had  often  rehearsed  his  part.  When  he  began 
to  pray  for  his  neighbors  and  friends,  his  tones  mel- 
lowed ;  when  he  named  the  "children  absent  in  pur- 
suit of  health,"  it  was  the  earthly  parent  talking  with 
the  heavenly.  He  prayed  that  "the  medicinal  fount 
they  had  sought  might  be  to  the  sick  girl  even  as  Be- 
thesda  when  stirred  by  the  angel's  tread,"  and  that  the 
"  brother  who  accompanied  her  might  be  led  by  the 
sight  of  her  patience  under  suffering,  her  abiding  faith 
in  the  love  and  wisdom  of  the  Divine  Arbiter  in  all 
human  concerns  to  yield  his  heart  and  life  in  reason- 
able service  to  the  Master."  That  the  "absent  student 
might  be  strengthened,  body  and  mind,  for  his  arduous 
labors,  might  walk  humbly  yet  firmly  in  the  steps  of  the 
Great  Physician  who  had  poured  out  His  blood  that  to  a 
dying  world  it  might  become  the  Elixir  of  Eternal 
Life." 

He  faltered  on  the  next  petition.  It  was  for  the 
"poor  wanderer  from  home  and  kindred  in  the  lead  of 
passion  and  falsehood. "  He  besought  that  she  might 
be  shielded  from  all  manner  of  evil,  but  especially  from 
sin,  and  "if  it  be  consistent  with  the  economy  of  Thy 
grace  and  justice,  that  the  sight  of  her,  contrite  and 
loving,  may  yet  be  granted  to  these  aged  eyes  ere  they 
close  upon  all  sublunary  things." 

"  Thou  knowest,  O  Lord  !" — the  shaking  voice  rising 
into  a  cry  of  pain — "  that  we  made  her  our  idol ;  that 
she  was  the  chiefest  among  ten  thousand  in  our  sight ; 
that  she  was  all  fair  and  there  was  no  spot  in  her ;  a 
fountain  of  gardens,  a  well  of  living  waters.  Thou 
didst  take  away  the  desire  of  our  eyes  with  a  stroke, 
and  our  hurt  is  not  healed — " 

The  cry  sank  into  a  murmur,  the  murmur  into  silence 
— broken  presently  by  deep  sobs — the  terrible  weeping 
of  a  broken-hearted  old  man. 


312  JUDITH: 

I  could  bear  it  no  longer.  Bushing  down  the  steps 
and  through  garden  alleys,  I  did  not  stop  until  I  threw 
myself,  breathless,  face  downward,  on  the  ground  in 
the  cedar  grove.  I  cried  out  to  the  deaf  trees  that  this 
was  my  work  ;  that  if  the  father  died  of  his  hurt  I  had 
helped  murder  him  by  withholding  the  warning  I  could 
have  given  in  season  to  hinder  his  child's  flight.  I 
wondered  if  this  might  not  be  the  unpardonable  sin — 
this  helping  on  the  commission  of  a  wrong  no  mortal 
power  could  undo. 

"When  I  had  wept  myself  into  exhaustion  that  was 
not  composure,  I  sat  up,  my  arms  enwrapping  my  knees, 
and  looked  about  me  in  listless  wretchedness.  Beyond 
the  cedars  was  a  spring,  with  a  grotto  of  rude  masonry 
over  it,  built  into  a  hill  at  the  back.  Under  a  dry -leaved 
oak  shadowing  the  "  spring  branch  "  was  a  fire,  a  mon- 
strous kettle  set  on  stones  above  it.  A  flat  rock  sup- 
ported a  tub  of  steaming  clothes,  which  a  woman  was 
washing.  She  was  tall,  sinewy  and  black,  and  her  gown 
of  unbleached  "  domestic  "  left  neck  and  arms  bare. 
She  had  pulled  off  her  shoes  and  stockings  and  hung 
them  on  a  bush.  As  she  scrubbed  with  fist  and  palm, 
and  wrung  out  the  cleansed  linen  with  energy  that  threw 
into  high  relief  the  muscles  of  wrists  and  arms,  she  sang 
merrily  a  plantation  song,  with  this  chorus  : 

"  '  O  young  ladies,  ain't  you  mighty  sorry  ? 
»De  sun  mos'  down,  an'  I  gwine  away  to-morry.' " 

Then  she  struck  into  another  air  loudly,  rubbing  faster 
to  keep  time  to  the  changed  measure  : 

'"0  say,  dear  doctor,  ken  you  tell 

What  will  make  my  sweetheart  well  ? 

She  am  sick  an'  I  are  solly, 

Dat  's  what  makes  me  mulloncholy  !'  " 

In  the  busy  intervals  of  her  singing  I  heard  two  cot 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          313 

ored  children  lying  on  the  hillside,  propped  by  their 
elbows,  their  mouths  near  the  earth,  calling  in  sweet 
monotone  : 

" '  Doodle-bug  !  doodle-bug  !  doodle-bug  I 
Come  an'  git  some  batter-bread  !' " 

The  "  doodle  "  is  a  flat-headed  beetle  of  the  ant-eater 
family.  He  digs  a  conical  pit  in  sandy  or  friable  soil, 
and  hides  himself  in  the  bottom  under  a  coverlet  of 
dust  to  await  his  prey.  The  breath  of  the  caller  or  the 
vibration  of  the  sides  of  the  pit  dislodges  particles  of 
the  loose  earth,  which,  falling  down,  deceive  the  tenant 
into  the  belief  that  an  ant  has  slipped  into  the  trap.  He 
emerges  from  his  lair  to  secure  the  victim,  revealing  his 
shovel-shaped  snout  and  ugly  black  body  to  the  exorcists 
above. 

Uncle  Archie  had  told  me  why  the  consonantal 
summons  brought  him  up.  I  smiled  faintly  now  in 
superior  wisdom  at  the  silly  creatures  who  fancied  that 
an  ant-eater  cared  for  batter-bread.  The  air  grew 
hotter  and  stiller ;  the  woman's  ditties  subsided  into 
wordless  crooning ;  the  dove's  moan  was  just  audible 
from  the  deeper  recesses  of  the  grove.  The  children 
had  happened  upon  a  colony  of  "doodles,"  and  kept  on 
calling  without  the  variation  of  a  semitone.  A  cloud 
like  a  puff  of  bituminous  smoke,  no  bigger  than  a  man's 
hand,  topped  a  distant  hill.  I  lay  back  on  the  tawny 
pillow  of  cedar  leaves,  and,  from  a  stern  sense  of  duty, 
tried  to  be  miserable  again.  When  Uncle  Archie 
hunted  me  up  to  tell  me  that  he  had  accepted  Captain 
Macon's  invitation  to  breakfast,  I  was  fast  asleep,  and 
the  cloud  on  the  hill  was  swelling  slowly  and  darkly 
toward  the  zenith. 

By  the  time  we  rode  into  the  outer  plantation  gate 
of  Summerfield,  we  urged  our  horses  to  a  run,  as  did 


314  JUDITH: 

the  charioteer  of  Ahab  when  Elijah,  with  girt  loins, 
outran  him  to  the  entrance  of  Jezreel. 

"For  the  heaven  was  black  with  clouds  and  wind, 
and  there  was  a  great  rain." 


CHAPTEK  XX. 

AUNT  BETSEY  was  a  pronounced  National  Kepub- 
lican — the  party  that  about  this  date  began  to  be  known 
as  "Whig."  Amid  the  winds  and  surges  of  anti- 
Masonic,  Democratic,  Secession  and  Nullification  prin- 
ciples and  heresies,  she  held  her  helm  hard  and  disdained 
to  veer  or  tack.  She  could  argue  clearly  in  favor  of 
Internal  Improvements,  Protection  and  the  Bank  ;  was 
conversant  with  the  rights  and  wrongs  of  the  Cherokee 
case,  and  "  did  not  wonder  so  much  at  Jackson's  beha- 
vior when  she  remembered  his  origin.  He  came  of  a 
very  low  family.  Mr.  Clay  was  born  as  poor,  but  his 
blood  was  dean.  Poverty,  in  itself,  was  no  disgrace  in 
the  eyes  of  the  Lord  or  in  those  of  sensible  men.  But 
the  dullest  observer  must  see  in  looking  at  the  rival 
candidates  that  one  was  a  gentleman  by  descent  and 
education,  while  the  other — well,  he  couldn't  have  been 
anything  but  a  Democrat,  without  flying  in  the  face  of 
Providence !" 

When,  therefore,  a  National  Kepublican  or  Whig  bar- 
becue was  to  be  held  at  the  county  court  house  the 
second  week  in  October,  and  ladies  were  "  respectfully 
and  cordially  invited  to  honor  the  occasion  with  their 
presence,"  our  petticoated  patriot  saw  nothing  improper 
or  strange  in  the  innovation  upon  received  customs. 
Courteous  consideration  for  the  sex  was  characteristic 
of  her  party.  If  not  another  woman  in  the  neighbor- 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         315 

hood  accepted  the  invitation,  she  would  go  alone,  sure 
of  being  treated  with  chivalrous  attention. 

Her  resolution  was  not  put  to  this  test.  Far  and 
near,  matrons  and  maidens  caught  eagerly  at  the  chance 
of  supporting  by  their  presence  and  smiles  the  Cause 
cherished  in  their  hearts.  With  Nullification  growling 
at  her  feet  and  the  Executive  whip  hissing  about  her 
ears,  Virginia  was  more  than  uneasy.  There  were  ele- 
ments of  responsive  turbulence  in  her  own  bosom  that 
would  down  at  the  bidding  of  but  one  man.  Twelve 
years  later  the  state  that  had  given  him  birth  rallied 
her  best  forces  as  gallantly  and  more  hopefully  than 
now,  to  lift  him  to  the  place  for  which  she  believed  him 
to  have  been  born — to  be  a  second  time  defeated  by  an 
unfortunate  division  of  the  Whig  party  on  side  issues. 
In  the  present  contest,  some  Whigs  were  sanguine  ;  all 
were  in  deadly  earnest.  Many  maintained,  with  Aunt 
Betsey,  that  the  existence  of  the  Federal  union  de- 
pended upon  Clay's  election.  The  talk  that  sounded 
like  newly-formulated  treason  in  1861,  the  open  decla- 
rations that  Maryland,  Virginia  and  North  Carolina 
would  never  suffer  the  passage  through  their  territory 
of  "coercive"  troops  bound  for  South  Carolina,  was 
blatant  among  the  groups  that  stood  within  earshot  of 
the  "ladies'  seats"  on  the  day  of  the  barbecue. 

The  place  of  convocation  was  a  grove  of  oaks  and 
hickories  on  the  outskirts  of  the  little  shire-town.  The 
Summerfield  carriage,  containing  Aunt  Betsey,  Aunt 
Maria  and  myself,  was  early  on  the  ground,  and  Uncle 
Archie,  after  seating  the  others,  took  me  by  the  hand 
and  led  me  off  to  see  the  preparations  for  dinner.  Long 
tables,  constructed  of  boards  nailed  on  wooden  "  horses" 
or  trestles,  and  draped  with  white,  were  ranged  on  level 
ground  among  the  trees  on  the  top  of  a  gentle  eminence 
that  fell  away  to  a  spring  and  "branch,"  the  centre  of 


316  JUDITH: 

culinary  operations.  Colored  women  were  preparing 
vegetables  for  boiling  and  chickens  for  frying ;  colored 
men  were  tending  the  barbecued  meats.  Oblong  pits, 
looking  disagreeably  like  shallow  graves,  had  been 
filled  overnight  with  billets  of  solid  hickory,  and  kept 
burning  until,  by  morning,  each  excavation  was  floored 
with  a  thick  layer  of  live  coals.  Sticks  of  hard,  seasoned 
white-oak  were  laid  across  the  mouth,  and  whole  sheep, 
young  pigs  ("shoats"),  calves,  and  huge  quarters  of 
beef  were  roasted  thereupon  to  a  perfection  of  juici- 
ness and  flavor  unattainable  by  any  other  method  of 
cookery. 

Grave  and  jovial  planters  superintended  the  process 
in  person.  Roderick  Macon  was  a  connoisseur  in  the 
matter  of  basting,  and  had  a  nice  eye  for  the  proper 
shade  of  brown  on  leg  and  loin.  Ronald  Craig,  red- 
faced  and  consequential,  watched  the  packing  in  a  mam- 
moth iron  pot  of  the  ingredients  of  a  Brunswick  stew. ' 

"  I  spent  a  month  in  Brunswick  County  once  on  pur- 
pose to  get  the  exact  knack  of  the  thing,"  he  expatiated 
to  Uncle  Archie  as  we  paused  beside  him  in  our  rounds. 
"  And  if  I  do  say  it  that  shouldn't  say  it,  there  ain't 
many  men  in  the  state  who  understand  the  business 
better.  I  told  Mr.  Archer  when  he  asked  me  to  oversee 
the  Brunswick  stew  to-day  that  by  George  !  it  wasn't 
a  matter  for  overseeing,  but  for  work  and  brains. 
Brains,  sir  !  That 's  the  secret  of  such  a  stew  as  this 
will  be !  Why,  sir,  I  've  worked  like  a  dog,  mentally 
and  physically,  for  three  weeks  to  get  the  materials  to- 
gether. Fifty  squirrels,  twenty  onions,  twenty  quarts 
of  butter-beans,  five  dozen  ears  of  green  corn  (went 
thirty  miles  to  find  some  that  was  planted  late  enough 
to  be  fit  for  use  now),  ten  pounds  of  butter,  ten  quarts 
of  tomatoes  (sent  to  Richmond  for  them  !),  sixty  pota- 
toes, ten  pounds  of  pork  (sweet  as  a  nut !),  twenty  gal- 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         317 

Ions  of  water  !  There  ain't  another  pot  in  a  hundred 
miles  that  would  hold  it  all.  This  is  an  heir-loom  in 
our  family,  and  the  stew  that  comes  out  of  it  to-day 
will  be  something  to  be  remembered  when  people  have 
forgotten  who  was  elected  President  of  the  United 
States !" 

The  broad  complacency  of  his  smile  went  out  abruptly 
before  reverential  decorum — he  took  off  his  hat  with  a 
bow. 

"Captain  Macon  !  good-morning,  sir!  A  fine  day 
for  our  meeting,  sir  !" 

The  Captain  had  a  new  red  coat  for  the  occasion,  also 
a  glistening  satin  stock.  His  ruffled  shirt  bosom  was  a 
snowy  clieveaux-de-frise  of  political  integrity.  But  crisp- 
ness,  gloss  and  color  could  not  restore  vigor  to  his  figure 
or  alertness  to  carriage  and  feature.  His  eyes  were  dull, 
the  drooping  muscles  about  the  lids  and  the  mouth 
flaccid.  The  whole  organism  had  been  too  far  over- 
strained ever  to  be  keyed  up  again. 

He  shook  hands  with  Konald  kindly.  If  the  young 
fellow  had  won  his  peerless  Harry  he  would  perhaps 
have  hated  him  for  binding  up  her  fate  with  that  of  a 
rich  fool.  Now  theirs  was  a  common  loss  that  dignified 
the  rejected  suitor  in  the  father's  sight. 

"  He  has  clean  hands  and  an  honest  heart,  at  any 
rate,"  he  had  once  remarked  to  Uncle  Archie,  "and 
comes  of  good  stock  !" 

He  patted  my  head  with  his  left  hand,  and  laid  the 
tremulous  right  on  Uncle  Archie's  shoulder. 

"  We  could  not  have  more  glorious  weather,  Mr. 
Craig.  God  grant  it  may  be  an  augury  of  the  triumph 
of  the  right !" 

"  Amen !"  responded  the  young  men,  and  all  three 
raised  their  hats. 

"  We  are  bound  to  come  out  all  straight,  Captain," 


318  JUDITH: 

added  Mr.  Craig  confidently.  "  One  term  has  showed 
the  American  people  what  Old  Hickory  is.  They  '11  be 
glad  enough  to  take  timber  from  the  Hanover  Slashes.* 
5Tou '11  see,  sir." 

"  It  may  be  so,  Mr.  Craig  !  it  may  be  so  !  But  I  am 
not  sanguine  in  my  expectations  of  so  speedy  and  satis- 
factory a  solution  of  our  national  problems,  our  mani- 
fold complications.  The  element  of  hope  is  wanting 
from  my  prognostications  of  late,  but  there  may  be  a 
natural  reason  for  that.  Timidity  is  an  inevitable  con- 
comitant of  decrepitude." 

Ronald  turned  aside  and  spoke  sharply  to  a  servant 
who  was  slicing  tomatoes.  We  moved  away  with  the 
Captain  in  the  direction  of  the  stand  and  the  rapidly- 
filling  seats. 

The  benches  prepared  for  the  ladies  were  covered 
with  white  cotton  cloth,  and  directly  in  front  of  the 
rude  rostrum.  The  day  was  as  still  and  warm  as  June, 
but  more  bracing ;  the  air  was  sweet  with  the  odor  of 
dying  leaves.  Many  of  the  younger  women  wore  white 
gowns ;  the  marshals  and  ushers  sported  fluttering 
streamers  of  pale-blue  satin  ribbon  stamped  in  silver 
with  a  medallion  head  of  Clay.  At  the  right  and  left 
of  the  stand  were  planted  poles  bearing  the  national 
colors.  Smaller  flags — the  ensigns  of  National  Republi- 
can Clubs  and  Clay  Leagues — decorated  the  rail  sepa- 
rating leaders  from  listeners.  There  had  been  reckless 
whispers  of  having  a  band  up  from  town,  but  this,  it 
was  thought,  would  hazard  the  loss  of  plain,  economi- 
cal voters,  already  disposed  to  hearken  to  the  talk  of 
aristocratic  pretensions  on  the  part  of  those  who  would 
wrest  the  rule  from  Democratic  fists.  The  exercises 
were,  accordingly,  opened  in  the  usual  manner.  When 
Captain  Macon,  the  chairman  of  the  Committee  of  Ar- 

*  Clay 's  birthplace— now  ' '  Ashland, '  *  in  Hanover  County,  Virginia. 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         319 

rangements,  advanced  to  the  edge  of  the  platform,  the 
hum  of  laughter  and  of  talk  was  stilled  ;  all  eyes  turned 
to  the  stately  figure  in  scarlet.  His  bowed  shoulders 
straightened  as  he  felt  the  general  gaze ;  his  voice  was 
stronger  as  he  went  on  with  the  deliberate  utterances 
that  had  something  of  the  olden  roll  and  resonance : 

"As  in  individual  emprise,  so  in  the  crises  of  national 
life — man  is  a  puny  impersonation  of  conceit  and  impo- 
tency,  without  the  guidance  of  Divine  Wisdom.  It 
therefore  behooves  us,  before  entering  upon  the  debate 
of  the  momentous  questions  that  have  called  us  hither 
this  day,  first  of  all  to  invoke  the  presence,  the  blessing 
and  the  gracious  guidance  of  ALMIGHTY  GOD.  Our 
prayer  to  this  effect  will  be  led  by  the  Reverend  Mr. 
Burgess  of  this  county." 

It  was  a  very  long  prayer — a  very  stupid  one  to  my 
comprehension,  and  tame  to  tedium  after  the  flowing 
sentences  that  introduced  our  worthy  pastor.  For  ten 
minutes  he  stood,  eyes  tight-shut ;  fingers,  joined  at  the 
tips,  pointing  outward  from  wrists  resting  on  the  pit  of 
his  stomach ;  occasionally  rising  on  his  toes  as  if  likely 
to  be  blown  aloft  in  the  draught  of  devotion.  He  prayed 
for  the  world  at  large,  for  the  Western  Continent,  for 
the  United  States,  for  the  State  of  Virginia,  for  our  par- 
ticular county,  for  our  neighborhood,  for  those  who 
should  speak  and  those  who  should  hear — that  they 
might  have  attentive  ears  and  applying  consciences ; 
finally  and  unctuously,  that  an  influence  might  go 
abroad  from  that  meeting  that  would  extend  through- 
out earth's  remotest  bounds. 

Captain  Macon  had  another  announcement  ready 
when  "Amen"  had  set  the  audience  upright  again. 

"  In  the  calm  consciousness  that  a  righteous  cause 
must  be  strengthened,  rather  than  weakened,  by  the  fair 
discussion  of  the  fundamental  principles  involved  in  its 


820  JUDITH: 

maintenance — the  National  Republicans  of  this  Con- 
gressional District  have  invited  the  Honorable  John 
Winston  Jones,  widely  and  favorably  known  as  a  gen 
tleman  of  irreproachable  character  and  marked  ability, 
to  represent  his  party — the  Democratic — here  to-day. 
The  debate  will  be  opened  by  our  distinguished  guest, 
the  Honorable  Waddy  Thompson,  of  South  Carolina. 
At  the  conclusion  of  his  address  the  collation  will  be 
served  in  the  grove.  The  banquet  over,  Mr.  Jones  will 
merit  and  receive  your  most  respectful  attention,  and 
the  closing  speech  will  be  delivered  by  the  Honorable 
Watkins  Leigh,  of  Richmond.  I  know  that  I  but  voice 
— and  all  too  feebly — the  sentiments  of  this  audience 
when  I  say  that  we  were  never  more  happy  to  see  this 
gentleman  than  now  that  his  legal  acumen  and  emi- 
nent oratorical  powers  are  at  the  service  of  the  party 
which  claims  at  this  juncture  the  patriot's  sympathies, 
his  labors  and  his  prayers,  to  secure  the  triumph  of 
which  some  of  us  would  even  dare  to  die  /" 

They  gave  him  three  thunderous  rounds  of  applause 
— the  gallant  old  war-horse  who  had  answered  the 
trumpet's  call  by  showing  himself  in  the  forefront  of 
the  battle.  Many  women  raised  their  handkerchiefs  to 
their  eyes.  I  felt  the  sob  Aunt  Betsey  could  not  stifle, 
and  saw  Aunt  Maria  quietly  wipe  a  tear  from  her  cheek. 
Then — I  forgot  everything  else  in  the  excitement  of  be- 
holding Captain  Macon  shake  both  hands  of  one  of  a 
compan}*  of  gentlemen  who  had  just  arrived  upou  the 
ground.  They  were  a  delegation  from  Richmond,  and 
the  portly  guest  who  was  laughing  and  nodding  upward 
at  his  taller  friend  was  Major  Dabney. 

I  remember  nothing  of  Waddy  Thompson's  two 
hours'  speech  except  that  he  compared  Van  Buren's 
efforts  to  gain  the  summit  of  party  power  to  the  tortu- 
ous windings  of  a  snake  up  the  tree,  the  topmost  oougb 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          321 

of  which  Jackson,  the  eagle,  had  reached  in  one  bold 
flight.  I  recollect  that  the  dinner  was  profuse,  informa\ 
and  very  merrily  enjoyed  ;  that  Mr.  Jones  seemed  to 
me  prosy  and  dull,  probably  because  I  knew  he  was  a 
Democrat  ;  that  Mr.  Leigh  halted  in  his  gait  and  was 
very  witty  in  his  demolition  of  his  predecessor's  argu- 
ments. But  I  preserve  a  distinct  mental  record  of  the 
incidents  with  which  the  public  exercises  closed. 

"  Captain  Algernon  S.  Macon"  was  the  first  name 
read  by  the  secretary  of  the  meeting  from  a  paper  bear- 
ing the  list  of  nominated  delegates  to  a  grand  party 
rally  in  Richmond. 

Before  a  vote  could  be  taken,  Captain  Macon  was  on 
his  feet,  his  hand  raised  in  dissent  and  entreaty. 

"• Fellow-citizens  of-  —County!  my  friends  and 
neighbors !  I  am  an  old  man  !  Above  the  portals  of 
my  brain  the  almond  tree  bends  a  weight  of  blossoms. 
The  grasshopper  has  become  a  burden  ;  I  am  afraid  of 
that  which  is  high,  and  fears  are  in  the  way  in  which 
I  once  ran  and  was  not  weary.  This  earthly  house  of 
my  tabernacle  is  no  longer  stanch  ;  the  keepers  thereof 
tremble,  and  the  strong  men  bow  themselves  toward 
the  long  home  which  cannot  be  far  off.  I  acknowledge 
with  a  full  heart  fervently  the  many,  many  tokens  of 
confidence  and  affection  of  which  I  have  been,  for  almost 
half  a  century,  the  grateful  recipient.  I  have  been 
your  unworthy  servant  in  the  battle-field,  on  the  magis- 
trate's bench,  in  your  legislative  halls.  Most  heartily 
and  humbly  do  I  thank  you  for  this  latest  evidence  of 
your  trust  at  a  season  when  you  should  select  instru- 
ments of  finest  temper  to  do  the  work  of  the  nation. 
But  I  came  to  this  convocation  to-day  to  bid  you  fare- 
well— to  lay  off  the  armor,  not  to  buckle  on  the  sword 
my  arm  has  grown  too  weak  to  wield." 

He  was  interrupted  by  cries  of  "No I   no  I"    Men 


322  JUDITH: 

arose  in  different  parts  of  the  crowd  to  utter  protest. 
A  majestic  wave  of  the  long  arm  enforced  silence.  He 
reiterated  his  refusal,  making  it  very  plain  that  there 
was  no  appeal.  Then  he  craved  leave  to  appoint  a 
delegate  in  his  stead,  and  being  answered  by  an  affirma- 
tive acclamation,  spoke  of  "a  county  man  of  your  own. 
One  of  whom  it  may  be  affirmed  with  truth  and  empha- 
sis, that  when  his  word  is  given  no  bond  or  oath  could 
make  the  obligation  stronger  to  his  conscience  ;  a  man, 
who  to  stainless  probity  unites  strong  sense,  clear  per- 
ceptions and  just  judgment ;  a  Christian  gentleman, 
who  has  gone  in  and  out  among  you  from  his  boyhood, 
unconsciously  exemplifying  the  highest  type  of  man- 
hood, visiting  the  widow  and  the  fatherless  in  their 
affliction,  and  keeping  himself  unspotted  from  the 
world.  A  patriot,  ingrain — unflinching  and  incorrup- 
tible, whose  actions  always  outrun  his  words  in  the 
ways  of  truth  and  uprightness  ;  who  would  defend  the 
right  and  resist  the  wrong  to  the  last  drop  of  blood 
poured  into  his  veins,  through  clean  channels,  from  an 
honorable  ancestry. 

"Fellow-citizens!  That  community  is  blessed,  in- 
deed, that  can  boast  more  than  one  denizen  who,  in  the 
early  prime  of  manhood,  possesses  and  manifests  char- 
acteristics and  endowments  such  as  I  have  enumerated. 
While  I  have  been  speaking,  I  doubt  not  that  each  of 
my  intelligent  auditors  has  anticipated  that  I  shall  pre- 
sent as  a  substitute  for  my  unworthy  name  on  the  list 
of  representatives,  to  be  sent  from  this  respectable  as- 
sembly to  the  National  Republican  Convention  to  be 
holden  in  Richmond,  on  the  last  week  in  this  month — 
that  of  my  dear  and  honored  friend,  ARCHIBALD  READ, 
ESQ.,  OF  STTMMERFIELD  !" 

How  they  huzzaed  and  clapped  !  How  Aunt  Betsey 
cried  behind  her  handkerchief,  while  every  fibre  of  my 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         323 

corporate  being  tingled  with  excitement  1  Uncle  Archie 
tried  to  utter  some  sentences  of  disclaim  from  the  side 
of  the  platform,  but  his  intention  was  anticipated,  and 
the  effort  foiled  by  a  clamorous  storm  of  applause. 
Captain  Macon's  motion  was  put  by  one  of  the  Com- 
mittee of  Management  and  carried  unanimously,  Major 
Dabney  joining  vociferously  in  the  plaudits  that  folio  wed 
the  vote. 

An  incident,  trivial  in  itself,  but  which  takes  deeper 
meaning  as  I  look  back  upon  it,  occurred  on  our  way 
home. 

A  wild  Passion-flower  vine  grew  in  a  certain  fence- 
corner  on  the  edge  of  a  body  of  pines  between  the  Cross- 
Roads  and  Summerfield.  I  had  gathered  the  blossoms 
every  summer  since  I  was  a  baby,  and  latterly  studied 
with  awe  the  mystic  symbolism  of  petals  and  stamens 
under  Aunt  Betsey's  and  Mrs.  Hemans'  tutelage.  We 
had  nearly  passed  the  spot  to-day  before  I  observed  it 
from  the  carriage  window. 

"Oh,  Uncle  Archie  !"  I  called  :  "Won't  you  please 
see  if  there  are  any  Passion-balls  there  ?  I  haven't  had 
one  this  year." 

The  coachman  reined  in  his  horses  while  our  escort 
alighted,  and,  throwing  the  bridle  over  his  arm,  searched 
for  the  coveted  "balls."  Stem,  leaves  and  tendrils 
were  limp  and  blackened  by  a  light  frost,  and  he  des- 
cried, the  more  readily  on  this  account,  four  or  five 
egg-shaped  fruits,  greenish  in  color  and  tough  of  skin. 

They  were  very  palatable  to  me — more,  I  fancy,  be- 
cause they  grew  wild  and  that  I  had  never  seen  them 
anywhere  except  in  this  piney  nook,  than  because  the 
flavor  was  really  pleasant.  The  pulp  had  an  odd  acid- 
sweet  taste,  which  Aunt  Betsey  complained  left  a 
"  tang  "  on  her  tongue. 

"They  taste  better  than  those  I  had  last  year,"  re- 


324  JUDITH: 

marked  I,  relishfully.  "Do  you  suppose  the  drouth 
made  them  sweeter  ?" 

"More  likely  the  frost  improved  the  flavor." 

"I  thought  frost  killed  things  I" 

"  Sometimes  it  mellows  and  sweetens  them.  Why,  I 
don't  quite  understand,  only  that  it  is  the  Lord's  will 
and  way  that  this  should  be." 

Aunt  Maria  took  a  Passion-ball  from  my  lap  and 
studied  it  silently,  as  we  drove  along  toward  the  sun- 
setting.  By-and-by  she  touched  it  almost  tenderly  with 
a  finger-tip  as  it  lay  in  the  palm  of  her  hand  ;  her  faint, 
sweet  smile  said  that  she  owed  it  a  precious  thought  or 
a  lesson. 

"Why,"  asked  I  that  evening,  "did  they  halloo  'A 
Bead  !  A  Bead  !'  Because  A  stands  for  Archie  ?" 

With  all  his  regard  for  my  sensitive  feelings  Uncle 
Archie  laughed  while  he  explained  that  it  was  the 
usual  form  of  popular  call  on  one  whom  the  people 
wished  to  have  serve  them  by  speech  or  action. 

"Of  course,"  mused  Aunt  Betsey  aloud,  "it  was 
only  what  might  have  been  expected,  and  what  Archi- 
bald richly  deserves,  but  I  must  say  I  have  seldom  been 
more  gratified.  And  I  do  consider  that  Captain  Ma- 
con's  address  was  perfect  of  its  kind — the  most  eloquent 
delivered  to-day.  That  man's  command  of  language  is 
akin  to  inspiration." 

Brother  and  sister  exchanged  smiles  unseen  by  the 
speaker,  who  went  on  unperturbed. 

"  But  Sister  Judith  1  our  friend  is  breaking  up  fast  I 
He  begins  to  look  like  an  old  man,  although  he  is  not 
sixty-three  until  December.  It  was  touching  to  hear 
him  speak  of  his 'decrepitude.'  Ah,  sorrow  under- 
mines constitutions  more  quickly  than  age  I" 

"We  are  none  of  us  young,"  responded  Grandma, 
serenely.  "But  old  age  has  compensations  that  are 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         325 

pleasures  if  we  use  them  aright.  My  son  !  this  old  lady 
is  a  little  stiff  to-night  I" 

We  were  rising  from  the  supper-table,  and  he  has- 
tened to  offer  his  arm.  In  taking  it  she  glanced  up 
proudly. 

"  One  of  these  is  the  advantage  of  having  so  strong 
and  tall  a  boy  to  lean  upon  !" 

A  clear  fire  blazed  and  crackled  on  the  dining-room 
hearth.  The  October  evenings  were  growing  cool. 
Grandma's  white-knitted  shawl  hung  on  the  back  of 
her  tall  rocking-chair,  and  Uncle  Archie  folded  it  about 
her ;  then,  obeying  the  impulse  of  her  hand,  stooped  to 
kiss  her  mutely. 

"  My  good  boy  I"  was  all  she  said. 

I  caught  the  glisten  of  moisture  under  his  eyelids  as 
he  turned  away.  Neither  of  them  was  ever  effusive, 
and  this  episode  awed  me  into  thoughtful  silence.  There 
was  little  need  of  words  or  of  caresses  between  two 
who  understood  one  another  so  perfectly. 

It  seemed  so  soon  after  this  night  that  the  pictures 
blend  without  visible  separation  lines,  that  we  four — • 
Grandma,  Aunt  Betsey,  Aunt  Maria  and  I — sat  quietly 
in  the  same  place  at  the  same  hour  of  the  evening.  But 
the  fire  was  larger  and  brighter,  the  wind  hummed  in 
the  chimney  and  whistled  storm-signals  outside  of  the 
windows.  I  had  that  afternoon  put  on  a  winter  frock 
for  the  first  time,  a  brown  stuff,  known  as  "  Circassian," 
high  in  the  neck,  long-sleeved  and  long-skirted.  My 
hair  was  just  long  enough  to  be  put  behind  my  ears,  and 
was  turned  back  from  my  forehead  by  a  round  comb.  I 
was  privately  vain  of  my  genteel  appearance,  esteeming 
the  crimped  ruffles  of  neck  and  wrists  the  acme  of 
youthful  elegance.  Still  I  must  have  looked  but  a  de- 
mure elf— a  sort  of  sepia  sketch,  pale  lights  thrown  up 
by  brown  shadows — as  I  sat  upright  on  a  cricket  against 


326  JUDITH: 

the  mantel-jamb  and  regaled  my  olfactories  with  Aunt 
Betsey's  gold-mounted  snuff-box.  I  liked  to  do  this 
when  there  was  nothing  in  it  but  the  tonqua  bean,  which 
gave  to  the  tortoise-shell  sides  the  true  vanilla  fra- 
grance— precisely  the  perfume  that  enchants  us  when  ex- 
haled by  the  pond-lily.  Gentlewomen  took  snuff  at  that 
day,  and  so  gracefully  as  to  disgust  nobody.  The  tap 
of  the  delicate  forefinger  on  the  enameled  or  jeweled* 
lid  was  susceptible  of  as  many  varying  expressions 
as  the  Spectator's  "  fan-exercise,"  and  even  the  appli- 
cation of  the  aromatic  powder  to  the  nostrils  was  ef- 
fected daintily. 

"  November  comes  in  roughly,"  remarked  Grandma, 
breaking  the  silence  consequent  upon  turning  off  the 
heel  of  her  lamb's-wool  sock.  "  I  wish  Archibald  had 
taken  his  surtout  with  him." 

"  Young  blood  is  warm,"  rejoined  Aunt  Betsey  con- 
solingly. "And  he  is  very  hardy.  I  hope,  however, 
that  he  will  come  before  his  supper  is  spoiled  by  wait- 
ing. Peggy  won't  bake  the  waffles  until  she  has  orders, 
but  good  coffee  is  injured  by  standing  long  on  the 
grounds  and  by  over-boiling.  I  suppose  it  wouldn't  hurt 
cheap  coffee  or  tea — such  as  the  country  will  be  flooded 
with  if  the  duties  are  taken  off  of  foreign  goods." 

"I  thought  Uncle  Archie  went  down  to  Richmond 
to  keep  them  from  electing  General  Jackson  I"  said  I, 
alarmed. 

"  Ah,  my  child  !  no  man  can,  single-handed,  beat 
back  such  a  woe  as  that !  It  does  seem  as  if  our  poor 
country  had  been  sufficiently  punished,  but  the  Lord 
knows  best.  If  it  is  His  will  that  this  awful  judgment 
shall  overtake  the  nation,  we  must  bow  under  His 
chastening.  Archie  and  all  other  good  patriots  will  do 
their  best,  but  my  heart  misgives  me  as  the  election 
draws  near. " 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          327 

Aunt  Maria  diverted  her  thoughts  from  public  to 
private  sorrows. 

"Mammy  tells  me  that  Di  Macon  is  failing  steadily. 
"We  must  go  over  to-morrow  to  see  what  we  can  do  for 
her.  I  wrote  to  Captain  Macon  this  morning,  offering  to 
sit  up  whenever  they  may  need  me." 

"  I  wonder  if  they  have  tried  rusty  nails  and  cider  !" 
said  Aunt  Betsey  anxiously.  "  Or  snake-root  and  honey 
for  her  cough  !  I  will  take  a  bottle  of  cherry-bounce 
and  some  of  my  hoarhound  bitters  when  we  go.  Some 
wafers  and  chicken-broth,  too.  There  's  no  use  in  feed- 
ing sick  people  with  home  victuals.  A  biscuit  baked  in 
a  neighbor's  kitchen  has  a  different  flavor  from  one 
cooked  in  one's  own  house.  It 's  strange  how  con- 
sumption runs  in  some  families  !  Mrs.  Macon  died  of 
it,  and  her  mother,  so  I  've  heard,  and  a  sister,  and 
here  's  poor  Diana  !  How  mysterious  are  the  ways  of 
Providence  !" 

Heredity  was  an  unused  word  in  her  generation,  and 
the  altogether  natural  transmission  of  diseases  from 
parent  to  child  esteemed  as  little  more  than  an  old 
wives'  fable.  Providence  got  the  credit  of  such  calami- 
ties, along  with  earthquake,  drouth  and  freshet. 

As  the  pious  s.oul  laid  this  new  burden  upon  the 
Great  Abstraction,  the  door  leading  into  the  back  porch 
opened  and  Uncle  Archie  stood  before  us.  His  clotbes 
were  plentifully  besprinkled  with  wet,  his  wrappers  red 
with  mire  thrown  up  by  his  horse's  hoofs.  But  he  had 
never  been  handsomer ;  his  eyes  were  bright,  his  com- 
plexion was  fresh,  his  smile  sunny  and  genial.  The 
ring  of  his  voice  put  heart  and  cheer  into  all.  He  had 
ridden  directly  to  the  stable,  he  said,  to  get  his  horse 
under  shelter.  A  genuine  November  storm  was  coming 
on.  He  had  left  our  Richmond  friends  well ;  the  con- 
vention adjourned  yesterday ;  he  would  tell  Aunt  Betsey 


328  JUDITH: 

all  the  political  news  when  he  had  been  to  his  room  to 
get  rid  of  the  mud. 

He  fulfilled  the  promise  with  the  same  merry  affeo 
tionateness  while  we  sat  long  over  the  evening  meal. 
He  could  not  say  that  he  really  expected  to  see  Mr. 
Clay  elected,  although  he  wished  it  more  fervently  than 
ever.  The  split  in  the  party  would,  he  feared,  prove 
fatal  to  their  hopes  of  success.  Still,  there  was  no 
saying  what  would  happen.  It  was  certain  that  the 
Democrats  would  not  have  so  easy  a  victory  as  at 
Jackson's  first  election.  Yes  I  he  had  filled  Aunt  Bet- 
sey's memorandum.  The  articles  purchased  would  be 
up  in  a  wagon  that  left  Richmond  that  morning.  There 
was  a  letter  in  his  saddle-bags  for  Aunt  Maria  from 
Miss  Virginia.  His  voice  sank  on  the  name,  and  a 
queer  little  pause  ensued.  But  he  did  not  offer  to 
produce  the  letter  then,  or  when,  the  servants  having 
cleared  off  the  table,  let  down  the  leaves,  set  it  away 
against  the  back  of  the  room  and  left  us  to  ourselves. 
He  laid  more  wood  on  the  fire,  settling  log  steadily  upon 
log,  opened  a  draught  in  the  deep  bed  of  coals  under 
the  forestick  with  the  tongs,  and  seated  himself,  holding 
out  his  hand  invitingly  to  me — his  face  as  clear  as  a 
summer  morning. 

"  Come  and  sit  on  my  knee,  Judith !" 

I  nestled  within  the  curve  of  his  arm  in  content  un- 
speakable until  I  discovered  that  his  heart  beat  hard 
and  he  drew  long,  irregular  breaths  at  intervals,  as  if  to 
lift  some  pressure  from  it  or  the  lungs.  I  sat  up  straight 
and  looked  in  his  face — an  apology  for  leaning  so  heavily 
against  him  trembling  on  my  tongue.  Before  it  escaped 
he  began  to  speak,  his  throat  contracting  visibly  at  each 
pause : 

"  Mother — Aunt  Betsey  ! — Maria  !  I  have  something 
else  to  tell  you ;  something  that  is  more  to  me  than 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         329 

political  intelligence ;  something  which  will,  I  know, 
interest  and  please  you.  I  am  to  be  married  on  the 
twenty-second  of  next  month — her  birthday — to  Vir« 
ginia  Dabney !" 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

STRANGELY  enough,  the  central  figure  in  my  re- 
trospect of  the  scenes  immediately  preceding  Uncle 
Archie's  wedding  day  is  not  himself,  but  Aunt  Maria. 
Aunt  Betsey  was  the  busiest  of  the  busy,  superintend- 
ing the  tearing  up  and  putting  down,  the  routing  and 
cleansing  that  were  decreed  to  be  absolutely  essential 
to  the  preparation  of  the  ancient  homestead  for  the  re- 
ception of  the  bride.  Major  Dabney  sent  up  a  carpet 
and  furniture  for  his  daughter's  room  that  were  the 
marvel  of  the  plantation  and  the  staple  of  neighbor- 
hood gossip  for  a  week.  Under  the  vigilant  supervision 
of  the  task-mistress  this  was  settled  satisfactorily  in  the 
wing  chamber,  whereof  every  inch  was  made  clean, 
sweet  and  bright  with  scrubbing-brush  and  old  home- 
made soap. 

Curtains,  wrought  elaborately  by  Grandma's  hand  for 
her  own  bridal  chamber,  had  lain  in  lavendered  darkness 
for  twenty  years,  awaiting  this  auspicious  day.  They 
were  drawn  from  the  deepest  caverns  of  the  great  blue 
chest  in  the  garret,  brought,  with  much  pomp  and  cir- 
cumstance, down  to  the  dining-room  and  spread  out  on 
the  big  table  at  length  and  breadth,  yellow  as  saffron 
with  age,  soft  and  fine  of  texture,  and  heavy  with  em- 
broidery. A  committee  of  the  whole,  consisting  of 
Grandma,  Aunt  Betsey,  Aunt  Maria  and  Mammy,  ex- 
amined and  pronounced  them  sound  in  every  part,  and 
good  for  a  score  more  years. 


330  JUDITH: 

"It's  far,  of  course,  that  Mars'  Archibald's  wife 
•should  have  'em,"  said  Mammy  slowly.  "But  I  had 
'lotted  'pon  their  fallin'  to  Miss  Maria's  sheer  o'  worldly 
goods.  Daughters  valler  sech  things  more'n  daughters- 
in-law.  It 's  boun'  for  to  be  so,  long  's  blood  is  thicker'n 
water. 

"  '  A  daughter 's  a  daughter  all  the  days  of  her  life, 
But  a  son  's  a  son  till  he  gits  him  a  wife.'  " 

Aunt  Maria  had  stooped  to  inspect  a  frayed  thread 
in  the  button-holed  border  of  a  grape  leaf. 

"  Mother !  a  stitch  is  needed  here  before  the  curtains 
are  washed.  I  am  glad  Virginia  is  to  have  them.  If  I 
had  ever  married  I  should  have  taken  them  away  from 
Summerfieli  I  shall  stay  here  always — but  that  makes 
no  difference.  Virginia  ought  to  have  them.  I  will 
get  a  needle  and  thread  and  look  them  over  again." 

She  went  out. 

Mammy  pursed  her  lips  ;  her  turban  executed  a  dis- 
creet little  nod.  She  only  said : 

"Ain't  you  afeerd,  Mistis,  that  Miss  Maria  is  a-settin' 
up  too  steady  with  Miss  Diana  Macon  ?" 

"  She  is  paler  than  I  like  to  see  her,"  returned  the 
mother.  "  Her  brother  and  I  were  speaking  of  it  last 
night.  But  we  agreed  that  since  poor  Diana  cannot 
last  much  longer  it  would  be  cruel  to  object  to  her 
having  the  comfort  of  her  friend's  society  and  nursing." 

"The  greatest  earthly  comfort  she  has,"  said  Aunt 
Betsey.  "And  who  can  wonder  she  feels  it  to  be 
such  ?  It  is  a  "privilege  and  a  blessing  to  be  ministered 
to  by  such  a  woman.  She  grows  in  grace  and  the  fruits 
of  the  Spirit  every  day." 

" '  Love,  joy,  peace,  long-suffering,  gentleness,  good- 
ness, faith,  meekness,  temperance,'  "  repeated  Mammy, 
as  if  to  herself.  "Do  you  think,  Miss  Betsey,  it's 
quite  nat'ral  for  young  folks  to  sanctify  so  fast  ?  'Taint 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         331 

the  Lord's  common  way  o'  dealin'  even  with  the  elect, 
it  seems  to  me.  Fruit  ain't  apt  to  be  ripe  to  the  core 
early  in  the  summer." 

"I  have  thought  that,  perhaps" — Aimt  Betsey 
brought  herself  up  with  a  side  glance  in  my  direction, 
felt  by  its  object  the  while  I  appeared  to  be  intent  upon 
my  slate  and  arithmetic  in  the  chimney-corner.  I  knew 
also  from  the  change  in  her  voice  that  she  smiled. 

"!JTo!"  I  comprehended,  too,  without  looking  up, 
that  Grandma's  gesture  was  dissentient  and  emphatic. 
"I  should  be  surprised  at  that.  Her  interest  in  Diana 
is  not  heightened  by  any  such  motive.  Poor  Harry  was 
her  favorite  in  the  Macon  family." 

So,  Sidney  Macon's*  devotion  to  my  sweet  aunt  was 
unavailing,  except  as  it  deepened  her  life-long  friend- 
ship into  sisterly  kindness ! 

"When  he  drove  over  for  her  that  afternoon,  as  he  did 
three  times  each  week,  to  take  her  to  Hunter's  Best  for 
the  night,  I  contrived  to  be  lingering  about  the  gate. 
He  escorted  her  down  the  walk,  and  when  she  stopped 
to  kiss  me,  picked  up  the  -sun-bonnet  I  dropped,  stand- 
ing by  and  holding  it  in  his  hand  while  she  bade  me 
"be  a  good  girl,  and  not  lie  awake  late  because  she 
was  not  with  me." 

"You  must  forgive  me  for  carrying  her  off,"  said 
Sidney,  more  affably  than  he  was  used  to  speak  to 
children.  Generally  he  hardly  seemed  to  see  me.  "  But 
we  need  her  sadly — just  now  I" 

My  alert  ear  and  imagination  caught  and  interpreted 
the  slight  pause  separating  the  last  two  words  from 
the  rest  of  the  sentence.  My  heart  swelled  with  min- 
gling pity  and  resentment.  He  was  well  enough  in  his 
place.  Looking  at  the  haggard  lines  in  his  dark,  hand- 
some face,  I  could  forgive  his  severity  toward  the  sister 
he  had  loved  and  lost.  But  violence  was  needed  to 


332  JUDITH: 

bring  my  thoughts  to  set  his  image  beside  that  of  the 
pale,  pure  saint  whom  he  helped  to  her  seat  in  the 
double  gig,  folding  a  shawl  over  her  feet  and  adjusting 
a  cushion  at  her  back  before  he  got  in  himself.  It  was 
easy  to  believe  that  she  would  never  change  name  or 
state,  but  remain  at  Sijnmerfield  until  the  dark  hair 
was  white  and  old  age  refined  into  graver  placidity  the 
face  others  besides  Aunt  Betsey  thought  lovelier  every 
day. 

She  did  not  come  home  next  morning.  A  messenger 
rode  over  at  sunrise  to  let  us  know  that  Diana  Macon 
had  let  go  the  last  strand  of  the  life  which  had  been 
slipping  from  her  hold  since  she  was  a  tall,  fragile  girl 
of  fourteen.  Hers  was,  at  the  best,  a  passive,  nerveless 
nature.  She  had  not  struggled  to  maintain  vitality. 
One  might  have  fancied  that  Harry's  redundant  indi- 
viduality had  fed  upon  and  sapped  her  sister's  strength. 
Still  the  shy,  inoffensive  sufferer  had  many  friends  in  a 
community  where  pain,  patiently  borne,  commanded 
respectful  sympathy.  The  funeral,  held,  as  was  the 
country  custom,  on  the  day  succeeding  that  of  death, 
was  largely  attended.  The  summons  had  been  sent  to 
relatives  and  friends  within  a  radius  of  twenty-five 
miles.  Aunt  Betsey  had  gone  to  Hunter's  Best  as  soon 
as  the  news  was  received,  and  remained  there  with 
Aunt  Maria  until  the  obsequies  were  over. 

Grandma,  Mammy  and  I  occupied  the  carriage  which 
turned  out  of  the  Summerfield  gate  into  the  public  road 
at  twelve  o'clock,  and  Uncle  Archie  rode  beside  it.  "We 
had  had  a  cold  luncheon  ;  the  house  was  as  still  all  day 
as  if  the  awful  guest  had  entered  our  doors.  Grandma 
was  unusually  silent  and  thoughtful.  Mammy  had 
donned  her  bombazine  and  a  huge  black  poke-bonnet  of 
age  and  portentousness  immemorial  and  indescribable ; 
a  small  black  silk  frock  which  had  been  Aunt  Maria's, 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA          333 

then  kept  for  state  mourning,  was  unfolded  for  my  wear. 
To  sport  colors  at  a  funeral  would  have  been  reckoned 
unfeeling  and  indecorous.  I  had  never  attended  one 
before,  nor  within  my  memory  looked  upon  the  dead, 
excepting  a  pretty  little  mulatto  baby — Mammy's  grand- 
child— lying  in  a  breathless  sleep  in  its  cradle. 

There  was  little  said  as  we  drove  on  under  bare 
boughs,  the  dead  leaves  up  to  the  fetlocks  of  the  horses 
in  the  road — nothing  that  could  have  lifted  the  cold 
pressure,  like  that  of  a  dead  hand,  from  my  heart. 
Under  the  weight  I  sighed  often,  involuntarily  and  hys- 
terically. Mammy,  on  the  front  seat,  kept  her  eyes 
cast  down  upon  her  black-mittened  hands,  as  grand  and 
solemn  as  an  Egyptian  statue.  Grandma's  fingers  were 
folded  more  lightly,  her  gaze  went  out  of  the  windows 
to  the  soft  gray  sky  seen  through  forest  vistas  and  from 
rising  ground  beyond  other  hills.  The  fields  were  brown 
and  crossed  by  lines  of  tobacco-stubs  and  gaunt,  bare 
cornstalks,  stripped  of  grain  and  fodder.  The  pallid 
sereness  of  the  country  was  the  work  of  drouth,  not  of 
frost,  therefore,  and  in  itself  unspeakably  dreary.  Even 
the  broom-straw  and  "hen's-nest  grass  "  of  the  "old 
fields,"  exhausted  by  bearing  and  resigned  to  the  slow 
recuperative  agencies  of  Mature,  were  bleached  into 
lifeless  dinginess.  Indian  summer  haze  and  drowsiness 
slept  in  the  hollows  and  veiled  the  horizon-line.  It  was 
as  if  Nature  had  turned  her  faded,  wrinkled  cheek  to 
that  wall  to  die  as  listlessly  as  the  consumptive  girl 
we  were  going  to  bury  had  breathed  her  last.  With 
another  sigh,  so  heavy  that  it  hurt  me,  I  fell  to  watch- 
ing Uncle  Archie.  He  sat  easily  and  firmly  in  the  sad- 
dle, the  reins  loose  on  his  horse's  neck,  as  the  blooded 
hunter  picked  his  way  on  the  edge  of  the  road  so  close 
to  the  trees  that  the  rider  bowed  his  head  instinctively 
every  few  minutes  to  avoid  the  lowest  limbs,  while  he 


334  JUDITH: 

seemed  to  gaze  straight  ahead.  "Was  he  thinking  of  his 
own  bridal,  now  less  than  a  month  off,  or  of  the  heaven 
where  there  is  neither  marrying  nor  giving  in  marriage  ? 
Or  were  he  and  my  other  companions  following  my 
musings  of  the  long-absent,  mysteriously-silent  daugh- 
ter of  the  stricken  home  V 

"  Grandma  !" — the  exclamation  burst  from  me  against 
my  will,  yet  was  scarcely  louder  than  a  dry  whisper — 
"  isn't  Miss  Diana  a  great  deal  better  off  than  Miss 
Harry  77 ow  ?" 

"  Better  off  than  any  of  us,  dear  !" 

Uncle  Archie  looked  around  quickly,  rode  up  nearer. 

"  I  suppose  that  is  true,  mother !  I  know  it  is.  But 
does  God  mean  us  to  feel  it  ?  It  is  a  hard  saying  !" 

"  I  hope  and  pray  that  it  will  be  long  before  you  can 
say  with  heart  and  tongue,  '  Amen  ! '  to  it,"  was  the 
rejoinder.  "  At  my  time  of  life  such  thoughts  and  talk 
come  naturally  to  the  tongue." 

Then  the  Indian  summer  quiet  again  reigned  about 
us.  Grandma  was  always  right.  So  was  Uncle  Archie 
when  he  called  hers,  "a  hard  saying." 

Aunt  Maria  met  us  at  the  door  with  a  silent  kiss. 
There  were'no  signs  of  tears  on  her  face,  but  a  holy  calm 
and  tenderness  ineffable  that  accounted  to  me  in  some 
indefinable  way  for  the  composure  of  father  and 
brothers.  We  were  among  the  first  arrivals,  and  the 
three  men  sitting  together  in  the  drawing-room  arose 
at  our  entrance,  advanced  a  few  steps  to  receive  their 
best  neighbor.  She  gave  both  hands  to  Captain  Macon. 

"  She  is  forever  with  the  Lord  !  There  is  another  to 
welcome  us  to  the  many  mansions  when  our  turn 
comes." 

"  I  would  not  recall  one  of  them,  my  dear  madam  ! 
The  Judge  of  all  the  earth  has  done  right  in  this  as  in 
all  things  else.  Blessed  be  His  holy  name  !" 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          335 

Sidney  wrung  Uncle  Archie's  hand  without  trying  to 
speak.  Roderick's  voice  shook  very  slightly  in  the  ex- 
change of  salutations.  Mammy  led  me  by  the  hand  up 
to  the  open  coffin,  which  was  covered  with  black  cloth 
and  rested  on  two  tall  stools.  A  mass  of  straight  white 
drapery  filled  it.  Glossy  cambric,  notched  and  scal- 
loped at  the  edges,  was  turned  over  with  sedulous  stiff- 
ness along  the  sides  of  the  coffin,  and  folded  at  the 
upper  end  into  two  broad,  flat  scarfs  that  swept  the 
floor.  Amid  this  glacial  stillness  lay  the  white  shell 
from  which  the  spirit  had  fluttered  yesternight.  Some- 
body whispered  that  she  "looked  very  natural."  To 
me,  the  peaceful  beauty  of  the  face  was  unnatural  and 
unearthly.  At  the  best  of  her  young  womanhood  she 
had  been  a  pretty,  pensive  shadow  in  a  home  where 
marked  personal  characteristics  were  the  rule,  and  she 
was  an  exception.  With  the  cessation  of  physical  pain, 
the  tense  lines  of  the  mouth  and  between  the  brows  had 
relaxed  into  a  half  smile  as  of  pleased  surprise  at  the 
relief  from  the  long  strain.  On  the  marble  forehead  the 
death-seal  which  dignifies  the  commonest  features  was 
a  majesty  of  calm  it  was  not  possible  to.  associate  with 
memories  of  the  living  countenance.  The  hands,  pearly 
and  almost  translucent,  were  crossed  at  the  wrists  and 
bound  in  this  position  with  white  satin  ribbon.  Her 
shroud  was  of  the  same  material  as  the  winding-sheet, 
and  was  notched — or  "pinked" — down  the  front  and 
on  the  ruffles  of  neck  and  sleeves.  Bows  of  stiff  ribbon 
fastened  it  from  throat  to  feet,  the  latter  being  covered 
with  silk  stockings  and  satin  slippers.  On  the  breast  of 
the  moveless  figure  lay  a  single  white  lily,  the  gold- 
dusted  stamen  and  green  stalk  the  only  relief  to  the 
dreadful  whiteness. 

The  piano,  the  tables,  the  pictures,  the  windows  were 
draped  with  linen  sheets,  as  straight  and  smooth  as  the 


336  JUDITH: 

burial  garments.  The  outer  blinds  were  closed,  and  the 
colorless  light  showed  an  increasing  and  silent  throng 
of  black-robed  forms.  If  a  chair  creaked,  or  a  boot- 
heel  scraped  on  the  oaken  floor,  the  sound  cut  harshly 
into  the  brooding  hush  which  gathered  weight  and 
depth  from  an  occasional  sigh  poured  into  it  from  some 
sympathizing  heart  that  could  keep  it  in  no  longer. 
Through  the  open  front  door  we  heard  the  horses  teth- 
ered at  the  racks  and  fences  pawing  the  turf,  the  sup- 
pressed tones  of  the  colored  coachmen  in  waiting  with 
the  empty  carriages.  The  rear  windows  gave  upon  the 
long  back  porch  crowded  with  servants.  At  the  head 
of  the  coffin  with  father  and  brothers  sat  the  faithful 
woman  who  had  nursed  Diana  from  her  birth,  and  in 
whose  arms  she  had  died.  A  snowy  turban  capped  her 
wrinkled  face  ;  her  arms  were  folded  tightly,  her  eyes 
closed,  and  she  rocked  gently  back  and  forth  with  the 
peculiar  measured  swing  known  as  "weaving,"  and 
much  affected  by  her  caste  in  solemn  assemblies.  Afar 
off,  in  the  heart  of  the  cedar  grove,  the  turtle-dove, 
loth  to  quit  her  home,  mourned  for  the  departed  sum- 
mer, and  the  threnody  was  audible  to  us  in  the  languid 
pulsing  of  the  hazy  noontide. 

Mr.  Burgess  "conducted  the  exercises,"  standing 
just  within  the  parlor  door,  behind  a  chair  set  with  the 
back  toward  him  and  the  legs  outward.  In  his  hand  he 
held  a  copy  of  "Village  Hymns."  His  deep  voice, 
breaking  the  sacred  silence,  rasped  my  every  nerve 
raw. 

"We  will  commence  the  services  of  this  solemn 
occasion  by  singing  the  five  hundred  and  seventy-first 

hymn: 

"  '  In  vain  my  fancy  strives  to  paint 

The  moment  after  death, 
The  glories  that  surround  the  saint 
In  yielding  up  his  breath.' " 


.1  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          337 

He  "  gave  it  out "  two  lines  at  a  time  after  reading  it 
through  once.  A  brief  pause  followed  the  first  couplet. 
Before  it  became  oppressive,  a  si1  very  voice  arose  from 
the  family  group — Aunt  Betsey's — in  "  Dundee's  wild 
warbling  measures."  Uncle  Archie  and  Aunt  Maria 
joined  in  promptly.  To  their  sincere  souls  there  was  no 
incongruity  in  chanting  the  funeral  psalm  in  the  pres- 
ence of  their  coffined  friend.  It  was  an  act  of  worship, 
therefore  duty.  People  talked  of  the  scene  and.  the 
music  for  a  long  time  afterward. 

My  gaze  could  not  leave  Aunt  Maria's  face,  as  slightly 
upraising  her  eyes  in  the  white  glooms  of  the  room,  she 
sang  in  thrush-like  notes : 

"  '  Thus  much  (and  this  is  all)  we  know, 

Saints  are  completely  blest ; 
Have  done  with  sin  and  care  and  woe, 
And  with  their  Saviour  rest. 

" '  On  harps  of  gold  they  praise  His  name, 

His  face  they  always  view, 
Then,  let  us  foll'wers  be  of  them 
That  we  may  praise  Him  too !'  " 

Captain  Macon's  gray  head  fell  on  the  hands  sup- 
ported by  his  cane.  His  frame  quivered  convulsively 
in  one  long  respiration,  as  a  tired  heart  might  stretch 
itself  in  lying  down  to  rest.  The  words  crept  into  my 
mind — "And  Israel  worshipped,  leaning  on  the  top  of  his 
staff." 

11  Have  done  with  sin  and  care  and  woe, 
And  with  their  Saviour  rest." 

Why  should  this  couplet  ring  with  tuneful  iteration 
through  my  brain  during  the  tedious  prayer  that  en- 
sued ?  Especially,  what  spell  was  there  in  them  to 
evoke  the  image  of  Harry  Macon,  blithe,  beautiful  and 
arch,  as  she  peeped  down  at  me  between  the  horizontal 
rails  on  the  back  of  the  bench  at  which  I  knelt  in  Old 


338  JUDITH: 

Singinsville  on  the  Sunday  morning  ages  agonc,  when 
she  opened  her  hymn-book  upside  down  on  her  lap  that 
I  might  beguile  the  insufferably  wearjr  duration  of  Mr. 
Watts'  prayer  by  reading  ? 

Mr.  Burgess'  text  was  Balaam's  aspiration :  "  Let 
me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous,  and  let  my  last  end 
be  like  his!"  These  words  the  faithful  pastor  treated 
and  improved  and  enlarged  upon  for  a  whole  hour. 
When  he  spoke  of  the  exemplar}'  life  and  consistent 
walk  of  "our  departed  sister,"  I  hearkened.  At  other 
times  I  dreamed,  gazing,  in  fascination  that  never  di- 
minished, at  the  marbled  visage  with  its  unchanging 
smile  of  gentle  surprise  ;  at  the  lily  drooping  above  the 
stilled  heart ;  at  the  set,  sad  lineaments  of  the  trio  who 
were  nearest  of  kin  to  the  wandering  daughter  of  the 
house  and  to  her  who  was  forever  present  with  the 
Lord  ;  at  Aunt  Maria,  sitting  at  Captain  Macon's  right 
hand  and  not  removing  her  eyes  from  Mr.  Burgess' 
lips,  the  while  I  suspected  that  she  heard  little  more 
than  I.  Children  at  that  date  sought  out  many  inven- 
tions to  cheat  lagging  minutes  into  swifter  movement. 
In  ultra-conscientious  spasms  I  caught  up  my  wan- 
dering thoughts  and  shook  them  into  place ;  endured 
grinding  conviction  for  sin  in  the  knowledge  that  I 
ought  to  "follow"  the  speaker  in  petition  or  exhorta- 
tion. But  Ephraim's  goodness  and  the  early  dew  were 
fixed  institutions  by  comparison  with  the  evanescence 
of  these  visitings.  At  this  hour  I  confess  to  a  lively 
curiosity  to  know  just  how  far  and  how  closely  my 
elders  and  superiors  followed  the  ordained  teacher  in  his 
stated  ministrations.  A  tougher  puzzle  is  how  a  sen- 
sible, educated  Christian  wrought  upon  his  conscience 
to  sanction  a  funeral  discourse  sixty  minutes  in  length, 
woven  of  washed-out  platitudes,  and  cross-barred  with 
Scriptural  quotations. 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          339 

We  had  another  hymn,  apropos  to  the  text : 

"  How  blest  the  righteous  are 

When  they  resign  their  breath  ! 
No  wonder  Balaam  wished  to  share 
In  such  a  happy  death." 

Then  I  heard  for  the  first  time  the  dread  announcement 
that  falls  upon  the  heart  with  the  force  and  pain  of  » 
blow  on  the  naked  surface  : 

"The  services  will  be  concluded  at  the  grave!" 
No  one  could  pronounce  the  formula  carelessly  at  th# 
thousandth  repetition.  "With  all  his  trained  mechanism 
of  pious  proclamation,  Mr.  Burgess  uttered  it  with  vis* 
ible  reluctance,  and  a  sudden,  shuddering  breath  escaped 
the  crowd  in  hearing  it.  I  was  as  one  struck  sharply  in 
the  face.  The  length  and  prosiness  of  the  exercises  had 
numbed  the  keenness  of  my  sensations  ;  the  dreamy  fit 
induced  by  the  accustomed  round  carried  me  away  from 
the  present  and  the  truth. 

But  the  "grave !"  the  stern  "full  stop"— the  "Finis" 
from  which  there  was  no  appeal,  and  beyond  which  lay 
a  blank  leaf  never  to  be  printed  while  Time  endures  ! 
Up  to  that  instant  I  had  not  thought  of  it  in  connection 
with  Miss  Diana.  I  could  picture  her  in  heaven,  for 
having  known  her  alive  I  could  not  imagine  her  as 
"not."  This  violent  removal,  from  home  and  sight,  of 
a  thing  so  lovely  and  helpless  as  the  still-featured  girl 
before  me  was  cruel  I  I  clutched  Aunt  Maria's  hand 
with  icy  fingers  as  Captain  Macon — "farewell"  in  eye 
and  gesture — arose  and  stood  over  the  coffin,  looking 
down  into  it  from  one  side,  his  sons  from  the  other, 
amid  silence  that  could  be  felt.  All  sounds  from  with- 
out were  suspended  save  the  distant  moan  of  the  wood- 
dove,  coming  and  ebbing  like  a  spent  musical  echo. 
My  aunt  passed  an  arm  about  me  and  held  me  fast, 
her  hand  on  my  wildly  fluttering  heart.  Neither  of  us 


340  JUDITH: 

could  withdraw  her  regards  from  the  standing  group 
until  the  father  bowed  to  kiss  the  calm  forehead,  and 
his  voice,  firm  and  resonant,  thrilled  through  the  awful 
hush  : 

"Farewell,  my  daughter,  until  the  Resurrection 
morning !  The  God  of  our  fathers,  who  brought  our 
Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ  from  the  dead,  have  you 
in  His  holy  keeping  until  then  !" 

In  any  other  man  action  and  words  would  have  been 
melodramatic.  With  him  they  were  nature — and  sub- 
lime ! 

I  burst  into  tears  and  buried  my  face  in  Aunt  Maria's 
lap.  Many  wept  aloud  with  me.  Warm  drops  rained 
on  my  neck  as  a  gentle  voice  begged  me  to  "  try  not  to 
cry.  It  is  all  well  with  her,  Judith,  dear.  We  must 
not  forget  this  I" 

"  Better  off  than  any  of  us  1"  I  recollected,  essaying 
to  check  my  sobs. 

The  colored  nurse  and  Aunt  Betsey  lifted  the  trailing 
cambric  scarfs  and  drew  them  tenderly  over  the  face, 
covering  it  for  the  slumber  that  would  endure  until 
the  dawn  of  the  Rising  Day,  disposed  them  in  smooth 
rigidity  over  the  figure  and  tucked  in  the  scalloped  edges 
of  the  sheet.  Uncle  Archie  and  two  other  young  men 
laid  on  and  screwed  down  the  black  lid.  Captain  Macon 
gave  Grandma  his  arm  when  the  coffin  was  lifted  to  the 
shoulders  of  the  four  servants  selected  by  Diana  to  bear 
her  to  the  family  burying-ground.  Roderick  offered  his 
to  Aunt  Betsey,  and  Sidney  raised  Aunt  Maria's  hand 
to  his  arm  without  a  word.  Uncle  Archie  took  charge 
of  me,  and  we  walked  close  behind  the  three  couples, 
the  rest  winding  on  after  us  in  a  long  procession  down 
the  back-steps,  across  the  broad  lawn  and  through 
garden-walks  bordered  by  leafless  shrubs,  to  the  God's- 
acre  of  the  domain.  A  literal  acre,  separated  from  the 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         341 

garden  by  a  hedge  of  box,  thick  and  low,  and  inclosed 
on  three  other  sides  by  a  brick  wall.  The  ground  sloped 
gently  from  the  garden-level,  and  was  furrowed  un* 
evenly  by  the  plowshare  of  death.  There  were  hun- 
dreds of  graves,  servants  and  masters,  the  young  and 
old  of  five  generations  having  laid  their  heads  on  one 
equal  bed  to  await  the  final  meeting  together  of  rich 
and  poor,  bond  and  free.  A  group  of  gravestones  near 
a  giant  weeping-willow  included  one  erected  in  memory 
of  "  LUCY  ANN,  BELOVED  CONSORT  OF  ALGERNON 
SIDNEY  MACON."  This  was  Diana's  mother,  and  at 
her  left  side  gaped  a  black,  hungry-looking  pit.  A 
rough  pine  case  was  laid  on  cross-pieces  over  the 
mouth.  The  negro  sextons  waited  near,  spade  and 
mattock  in  hand,  but  neighbors'  hands  did  what  was 
needful  until  the  encased  coftin  was  lowered  to  its  place. 
Men  stood  uncovered,  women's  faces  were  wet  with 
tears  while  they  sang  the  hymn  which,  I  dare  affirm,  had 
sounded  over  every  grave  opened  within  the  hallowed 
precincts  for  a  hundred  years  past : 

"  Why  should  we  mourn  departing  friends 

Or  shake  at  Death's  alarms? 

'Tis  but  the  voice  that  Jesus  sends 

To  call  them  to  His  arms." 

The  tune  was  (of  course)  "China." 
The  lithe  streamers  of  the  willow  vibrated  in  the 
shout  of  rapture  that  upbore  the  words — 

"  Thence,  He  arose,  ascending  high, 

And  showed  our  feet  the  way, 
Up  to  the  Lord  we,  too,  shall  fly 
At  the  Great  Rising  Day  1" 

Not  one  of  the  singers  doubted  it.  Mr.  Burgess' 
prayer  could  not  quench  the  exultation  of  the  sure  and 
certain  Hope. 


34S  JUDITH: 


CHAPTER  XXIL 

"  IT  WSLS  very  good  in  you  to  ask  me  to  your  wedding. 
Do  you  know,  I  never  saw  anybody  married  in  all  my 
life !" 

"  Not  good  at  all  1  It  wouldn't  be  a  wedding  without 
you,  Sweetbrier!" 

I  sat  in  Miss  Virginia's  lap,  wrapped  warmly  in  her 
arms,  and  it  was  the  eve  preceding  her  wedding-day. 
Aunt  Maria  and  Mrs.  Dabney  were  in  the  store-room 
together.  I  had  been  in  the  house  but  two  hours, 
having  come  to  town  that  day  with  Uncle  Archie  and 
three  of  his  groomsmen,  but  I  already  observed  how  tact- 
fully and  effectually  Aunt  Maria,  who  had  spent  the  last 
three  weeks  with  her  friend,  contrived  to  draw  the  splut- 
tering fire  of  the  stepmother's  attention  and  comment 
from  the  heroine  of  the  morrow's  drama.  It  had  rained 
all  day  in  cold,  sullen  showers,  each  promising  more  of 
its  kind.  The  wind  was  rising  now,  and  sent  intermit- 
tent gushes  of  spray  against  the  windows.  The  soft  coal 
in  the  grate  flamed  high  and  red,  and  made  the  only 
light  in  the  parlor.  I  was  intensely,  fearfully  happy — 
excited  to  loquacity. 

"This  is  too  delicious!"  I  panted  from  the  sweet 
inclosure  of  the  embrace.  "  I  was  dreadfully  afraid 
once  that  you  wouldn't  marry  Uncle  Archie  after  all. 
It  seems  silly  now  to  say  it,  but  I  really  had  a  notion 
that  you  liked  that  Mr.  Allen  better  than  you  did  him 
— the  Mr.  Allen  who  wore  the  '  bilibous-green '  coat 
and  big  watch-seal,  and  who  paid  you  so  much  atten- 
tion." 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         343 

"  Ned  Allen  !  Why,  he  is  odious !  The  very  last 
man  upon  the  globe  that  I  would  have  looked  at !  How 
did  you  get  that  notion  into  your  head,  Monkey  ?" 

My  cheeks  burned. 

"  I  heard  you  and  Miss  Harry  talking  Edward  Dun- 
allan  one  night.  Of  course  I  knew  he  was  the  hero  of 
a  book,  but  the  names  were  so  much  alike  that  I 
thought  you  meant  him." 

"  I  did  not !  It  was — quite  another — a  very  different 
person.  Try  to  forget  the  nonsense  we  talked  and 
dreamed  last  winter,  Judith,  if  you  love  me  and  want 
to  please  me.  It  turns  me  sick  to  remember  it.  I  wish 
I  could  cut  last  winter  out  from  the  rest  of  my  life  and 
throw  it  into  the  fire  there  and  see  it  burn  away  to 
nothing  /" 

She  spoke  with  passionate  acrimony  so  unlike  any- 
thing I  had  ever  heard  from  her  before  that  I  was 
frightened,  and  sought  instinctively  for  solacing  words. 

"  I  don't  want  to  burn  up  my  visit  to  you !  I  wouldn't 
forget  if  I  could  how  sweet  and  kind  you  were  to  me 
while  I  was  here.  Uncle  Archie  says  you  couldn't  be 
unkind  to  anything  or  anybody.  He  told  Grandma  the 
other  day  that  he  had  studied  you  for  years  without 
finding  in  you  a  single  unamiable  or  unwomanly  trait." 

I  quoted  successfully  and  complacently. 

She  pinched  my  cheek. 

"  What  a  mouthful !  And  telling  tales  out  of  school, 
too  !  Still  I  am  glad  you  said  it.  It  helps  me  to  hear 
such  things.  It  helps  me,"  she  repeated,  looking  ab- 
sently into  the  fire,  and  falling  into  the  softly  emphatic 
manner  of  speech  peculiar  to  her  earnest  moods.  "  I 
will  try  not  to  disappoint  him  or  his  friends.  I  wish  I 
were  good  enough  for  him.  But  I  am  not  what  he  be- 
lieves  me  to  be.  I  am  not !  I  am  not  /" 

She  put  me  down  and  stood  up  straight  on  the  rug 


344  JUDITH: 

rubbing  the  palms  of  her  hands  hard  together,  her  eyes 
wild  and  terrified. 

"  I  am  not !  Sometimes  I  think  I  shall  lose  my  senses 
with  thinking  of  it !  Of  what  he  expects  and  what  1 
can  give !  And  I  must  go  straight  on — without  looking 
backward  or  to  the  right  or  left — march  right  forward — 
and — be — married — to-morrow  I" 

She  sank  to  her  knees  before  the  chair  from  which  she 
had  arisen,  sobbing  and  crying  hysterically.  I  was  para- 
lyzed— afraid  to  touch  her  or  to  call  for  help.  If  the 
prospect  of  marriage  moved  this  serene  embodiment  of 
womanly  graces  and  virtues  to  madness,  Uncle  Archie 
was  falsifying  the  record  of  his  past  life  by  urging  it 
upon  her,  even  by  allowing  the  sacrifice. 

"  I  am  sure — "  began  I  timidly,  when  the  sobs  abated, 
"  that  Uncle  Archie  would  let  you  off  if  he  knew  how 
you  feel.  Why  don't  you  beg  him  to  do  it  ?  He  would 
be  terribly  hurt  to  think  he  had  caused  you  all  this 
trouble.  He  'd  rather  live  without  you  always  than  to 
make  you  miserable  for  one  hour.  Suppose  you  tell 
him  ?" 

She  was  up  in  an  instant,  laughing  and  shaking  me 
by  the  shoulders. 

"You  are  the  funniest,  comicalest,  delightfulest  bit 
of  sweetbrier  I  ever  laid  hold  of!  I  shall  die  some  day 
with  laughing  at  your  oddities  !  '  Beg  him  to  let  me 
off!'  Why  should  I  take  him — or  anybody  else — if  I 
don't  want  him  ?  Is  there  any  reason  for  my  marry- 
ing him  except  the  one  all  women  have  for  changing 
their  names — because  they  think  they  can  better  them- 
selves, as  well  as  make  somebody  else  supremely  happy  ? 
If  you  ever  breathe  a  syllable  of  our  talk  and  my  carry- 
ings-on this  evening,  I  won't  forgive  you.  Mother  had 
hysterics  this  morning  when  I  tried  on  my  wedding- 
dress,  and  I  believe  I  have  caught  them.  If  a  girl 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          345 

can't  play  the  fool  the  night  before  she  is  married, 
when  can  she,  I  would  like  to  know  ?  Now,  we  will  be 
sensible !" 

She  pulled  me  again  to  her  lap  and  began  telling  me 
of  the  new  frock  that  had  been  made  for  me  at  her 
dressmaker's.  Aunt  Maria  had  brought  one  of  my 
gowns  down  with  her  as  a  measure,  and  bought  the 
material  in  Richmond,  a  sort  of  crepe  lisse,  trimmed 
with  white  silk  ruffles. 

"And  there  are  the  prettiest  satin  slippers,  with  ro- 
settes, and  silk  stockings  to  be  worn  with  them — all 
white,  of  course,"  she  filled,  up  the  measure  of  my  con- 
tent by  adding. 

"Miss  Diana  Macon  was  buried  in  white  satin  shoes 
and  silk  stockings,"  remarked  I  in  a  subdued  key. 
"  Isn't  it  strange  that  the  two  things  should  be  so  much 
alike  ?  Marrying  and  burying,  I  mean.  No  !  I  don't 
either !"  seeing  that  I  had  made  a  false  step,  but  not 
what  a  blunder  it  was — "I  ought  not  to  say  that — 
but—" 

"  Don't  try  to  take  it  back  !  Children  and  fools  speak 
the  truth.  Many  a  girl  stands  up  to  be  married  when 
she  would  thank  God  for  the  privilege  of  lying  down 
beside  poor  Diana  in  her  shroud.  I  should  not  call  her 
'  poor, '  but  '  rich  and  happy  woman, '  to  be  out  of  it  all ! 
You  are  right,  Mousie  !  Marriage  and  death  are  awfully 
alike.  God  help  women  everywhere  to-night !  But  He 
doesn't !  I  think  sometimes  that  it  is  part  of  our  curse 
— that  He  should  always  be  on  the  side  of  the  men,  or 
seem  to  be.  They  can  ask  for  whatever  they  want,  and 
plead  and  plan  and  work  until  they  get  it,  and  every- 
body is  ready  to  lend  a  helping  hand,  while  we — !  If 
a  woman  could  keep  her  heart  from  breaking  or  save 
her  soul  by  putting  out  her  hand  to  touch  a  man  who  is 
passing  by  without  seeing  her,  she  cannot  do  it.  She 


346  JUDITH: 

must  let  him  go,  and  hide  her  hurt  as  well  as  she 
can!" 

"  /  wouldn't !"  said  I,  in  the  confidence  of  a  preco- 
cious twelve-year-old.  "  I  would  call  him  if  I  died 
for  it." 

"  You  'd  die  for  it  if  you  did  !  Lose  his  respect  and 
your  own,  and  gain  the  contempt  of  everybody  else ! 
What  stuff  I  am  talking  !  I  believe  I  am  slightly  out 
of  my  head  to-night.  You  must  get  Aunt  Maria  to 
show  you  her  dress.  She  looks  like  a  tall,  slender 
lily-of-the-valley  in  it — just  as  sweet  and  modest  and 
pure." 

"  She  wrote  to  Aunt  Betsey  that  you  were  to  be  mar- 
ried in  white  satin." 

"  Yes  !  as  thick  as  a  board  and  as  shiny  as  shroud- 
cambric  !  Ugh  !  I  hate  it  I" 

"Why  do  you  wear  it,  then  ?" 

"  Because  it  is  the  prescribed  rig  for  brides.  If  it 
wasn't  for  the  talk  it  would  make  I  would  be  married 
in  black  crape,  and  keep  the  satin  abomination  for  my 
funeral." 

"You  don't  look  and  talk  a  bit  like  yourself,"  de- 
cided I,  shocked  and  judicial.  "  I  have  always  heard 
that  it  alters  people  very  much  to  be  engaged.  Now, 
all  the  change  we  've  noticed  in  Uncle  Archie  is  that  he 
is  gentler  and  happier,  nicer  than  ever  before,  and  a 
great  deal  handsomer.  Aunt  Betsey  says  he  has  a  kind 
of  glorified  look." 

She  shifted  me  to  the  other  knee,  getting  me  between 
her  and  the  fire,  that  was  now  glaringly  bright,  leaned 
her  forehead  on  my  shoulder,  her  face  in  shadow,  and 
was  motionless  so  long  that  I  took  it  into  my  head  she 
was  praying  silently. 

She  did  not  stir  when  the  door-bell  rang  and  Uncle 

rchie's  step  sounded  in  the  hall.    Not  until  he  had 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         347 

crossed  the  room  and  paused  before  her  did  she  raise 
her  head.  Then  she  held  out  her  hand  smilingly  : 

"  Excuse  me  for  not  rising.  Sweetbrier  is  a  little 
tired  after  her  journey,  and  I  am  resting  her." 

"Very  much  to  her  satisfaction,  I  have  no  doubt," 
passing  his  hand  over  my  hair,  as  he  drew  a  chair  to 
her  side. 

I  felt  intuitively  that  he  wished  me  anywhere  else  at 
that  moment,  and  began  to  meditate  an  escape. 

"  It  rains  still — does  it  not  ?"  Miss  Virginia  kept  the 
conversation  in  safe  channels. 

"Yes — but  it  is  growing  cold  and  the  wind  is  so  high 
that  we  shall  probably  have  clear  weather  by  to-mor- 
row." 

"Yes?"  abstractedly. 

Uncle  Archie  held  out  his  hand  to  me. 

"  Judith  I  I  am  afraid  you  are  too  heavy  for  Miss  Vir- 
ginia." 

She  grasped  me  when  I  tried  to  rise. 

"She  is  as  light  as  a  feather.  I  like  to  have  her 
here.  It  has  been  a  weary  while  since  I  saw  her.  And 
we  are  great  cronies — aren't  we,  dear  ?  have  ever  and 
ever  so  much  to  say  to  one  another." 

Her  hot  lips  touched  my  cheek.  Uncle  Archie  put 
his  hand  on  hers  as  it  lay  on  the  arm  of  the  chair.  I 
felt  a  sharp  shiver  run  over  her — then,  that  she  held 
herself  perfectly  still. 

"  Please  let  me  go  1"  I  breathed  in  her  ear. 

For  reply  I  had  a  tighter  clasp,  and  a  look  into  my 
eyes  I  could  have  resisted  as  easily  as  I  could  interpret 
it.  This  might  be  the  shy  sweetness  I  had  read  of  in 
romances — maidenly  coyness  as  diagnosed  by  the  best 
authorities  in  Cupid's  practice.  If  this  were  so  I  hoped 
Uncle  Archie  understood  the  symptoms  better  than  I. 

The  fatigues  of  the  day  had  not  put  me  to  sleep  when 


348  JUDITH: 

the  two  young  ladies  came  up  to  their  chamber  for  the 
night. 

"  I  suppose  it  is  prudent  to  reserve  your  strength," 
Aunt  Maria  was  saying,  "but  I  think  he  expected  to 
have,  at  least,  a  half-hour's  talk  alone  with  you." 

"  Would  you  have  me  look  like  a  hag  on  my  wedding- 
day  ?"  retorted  the  other  with  affected  asperity.  "You 
who  pretend  to  admire  my  complexion  ought  to  second 
my  attempts  to  preserve  it." 

All  the  next  day,  in  accordance  with  time-sanctioned 
usage,  the  bride  was  kept  in  strict  seclusion,  visible 
only  to  the  bridesmaids.  These,  eight  in  number,  and 
all  pretty — for  that  night  at  least — gathered  about  her 
like  a  bouquet  of  snow-drops  enclosing,  as  heart  and 
queen,  a  moss-rose  bud,  when  the  bridegroom  and  his 
attendants  appeared.  By  preconcerted  arrangement  I 
slipped  down  stairs  while  the  train  was  forming,  and 
stood  by  Major  Dabney  in  a  place  reserved  for  my 
diminutive  person  by  Wickham.  The  bishop,  benignant 
in  snowy  lawn  and  silvery  hair,  was  stationed  between 
the  back-parlor  windows,  a  spacious  area  before  him 
swept  clear  of  the  guests  who  crowded  the  rooms  and 
hall.  From  this  reserved  space  a  path  was  with  diffi- 
culty opened  at  a  given  signal  for  the  progress  of  the 
eight  couples  from  the  front-parlor  door.  They  paced 
it  slowly,  Aunt  Maria  and  Stanhope  Dabney,  Miss  Vir- 
ginia's cousin,  last  and  immediately  preceding  bride 
and  groom.  As  each  pair  reached  the  Bishop  it  fell 
apart,  the  gentleman  taking  a  stand  at  his  right,  the 
lady  at  his  left,  gradually  shaping  a  ring  which  received 
the  clasp  and  seal  when  the  pair  to  be  married  faced 
him.  The  bride  was  supported  on  her  left  by  a  semi- 
circle of  gallant  cavaliers,  the  groom  by  a  crescent  of 
fair  women.  Everything  went  off  with  perfect  order  and 
decorum.  At  the  appointed  second  the  bride's  glove 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          349 

was  dexterously  removed  by  the  best  man,  Uncle 
Archie's  by  his  sister,  the  ring  was  slipped  to  its  place 
with  the  too-often  meaningless  formula — "With  this 
ring  I  thee  wed,  with  all  my  worldly  goods  I  thee  en- 
dow," etc. 

Presbyterian  Uncle  Archie  said  it  slowly  and  solemnly. 
Repetition  had  not  dulled  the  significance  of  the  pledge 
for  him.  His  enunciation  of  the  name  of  the  Divine 
Triune  was  deep-toned  and  reverent,  his  head  bowed 
prayerfully. 

The  bride's  roses  repaid  her  for  the  care  given  to 
their  preservation.  Her  bloom  was  brilliant,  her  smile 
ready  and  sweet  in  receiving  congratulations  and  good 
wishes.  Her  lip  trembled  when  her  father  caught  her 
to  his  breast  with  a  half-sob,  giving  his  left  hand,  at 
the  same  moment,  to  his  son-in-law. 

''God  bless  you  both!"  I  was  near  enough  to  hear 
the  old  soldier  say.  "There  isn't  another  man  alive  to 
whom  I  would  so  willingly  give  her.  I  told  her  so, 
months  and  months  ago." 

Mrs.  Dabney's  hysterical  dampness  restored  her  step- 
daughter to  her  wonted  tranquillity  of  demeanor.  The 
habit  of  retrieving  the  good  creature's  mishaps  of 
speech,  of  guarding  others  against  the  effects  of  her 
tactlessness,  could  not  be  cast  aside  even  at  this  junc- 
ture. Without  forgetting  the  ceremony  due  to  herself 
as  the  cynosure  of  the  occasion,  she  took  up  her  cus- 
tomary duties  as  the  hostess-daughter  of  the  house  and 
discharged  them  with  the  easy  cordiality  that  became 
her  so  well. 

I  was  watching  her  admiringly  from  a  safe  corner 
behind  an  oleander  tree  in  pink  affluence  of  blossom, 
when  I  overheard  a  fragment  of  a  dialogue  that  was 
certainly  not  meant  for  the  ears  of  any  one  allied  to 
either  of  the  two  newly-united  families. 


350  JUDITH: 

"Ned  isn't  here,  I  see,"  said  one  man  slyly  to  an- 
other. "He  's  badly  hurt  and  takes  it  hard !" 

"  Yes,  but  what  a  fool  to  advertise  it  by  staying 
away  to-night !"  rejoined  his  friend,  whose  left  lappel 
was  decorated  with  a  "groomsman's  favor" — a  ribbon 
rosette  of  blue  and  silver,  with  flowing  ends.  "Every- 
body is  noticing  and  whispering  about  it.  I  have 
heard  a  dozen  jokes  on  the  subject." 

"Was  it  ever  an  engagement  ?" 

"Humph!  Hardly,  I  reckon.  I  should  say  'cer- 
tainly not,'  if  I  trusted  to  my  knowledge  of  the  parties 
and  personal  observation.  He  swears  that  she  encour- 
aged him,  gets  black  in  the  face  when  he  talks  about 
it  and  so  forth.  But  I  doubt  if  she  ever  gave  him  more 
encouragement,  as  he  calls  it,  than  she  did  a  dozen 
others.  I  don't  blame  her  for  discarding  him.  Be- 
tween ourselves,  she  couldn't  have  done  a  more  sensi- 
ble thing.  I  thought,  last  winter  and  spring,  that 
Bradley  had  the  inside  track  and  was  doing  capital 
running.  In  fact,  I  would  have  backed  him  against 
the  field,  but  he  may  have  been  taking  care  of  Bead's 
interests.  That's  the  way  it  looks  now,  at  any  rate." 

"Would  the  old  gentleman  have  given  consent  to 
that  match  ?" 

"  Um-m-m  !  doubtful — very  !  There  must  have  been 
a  pretty  thorough  understanding  all  around  of  the  real 
state  of  aflairs." 

"She  played  the  game  confoundedly  well.  These 
innocent -looking,  frank -eyed  girls  who  smile  upon 
every  fellow  are  the  devil's  own  for  cunning.  I 
wouldn't  trust  one  of  them  on  oath." 

The  other  burst  out  laughing. 

"Halloa!  are  you  galled,  too?  How  many  more 
victims,  I  wonder  1" 

When  I  repeated  the  substance  of  this  conversation 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         351 

to  Aunt  Maria,  next  day,  she  flushed  up  painfully — I 
fancied  indignantly — and  charged  me  to  let  it  go  no 
further. 

"  It  was  foolish  and  wicked  for  them  to  speak  in  that 
way !  You  must  not  allow  such  wild  gossip  to  afiect 
your  manner  or  feelings  toward  your  Aunt  Virginia. 
She  never  flirted  with  either  Mr.  Allen  or  Mr.  Bradley  1" 

"I  know  that!'1''  I  rejoined  eagerly.  "She  could  not 
have  helped  knowing  that  Uncle  Archie  was  in  love 
with  her,  and  Mr.  Bradley  certainly  saw  it.  It  would 
have  been  dishonorable  in  him  to  court  her,  wouldn't 
it?" 

"Yes,  dear,"  lifting  a  calm  face  from  the  letter  she 
was  writing.  "Put  the  whole  matter  out  of  your 
mind." 

This  injunction  served,  of  course,  only  to  fix  indeli- 
bly in  the  retentive  mind  of  childhood  every  incident  of 
the  winter  that  had  passed. 

Aunt  Maria's  letter  was  to  my  mother,  whose  younger 
children  were  "  down"  with  whooping-cough.  In  her 
disappointment  at  her  inability  to  attend  the  wedding, 
she  had  exacted  a  promise  from  her  sister  that  she 
would  forward  a  full  description  of  the  festivities  on  the 
morrow  of  the  marriage-eve.  The  other  day,  in  over- 
hauling a  trunk  crammed  with  old  letters,  I  happened 
upon  the  brittle,  yellow  pages  bearing  the  particulars 
she  knew  would  interest  her  housewifely  correspond- 
ent. I  transcribe  an  extract: 

"  "We  went  in  to  supper  at  eleven  o'clock,  the  cere- 
mony having  taken  place  at  eight.  The  table  was  ex- 
tremely handsome.  The  centre-piece  was  a  cake, 
richly  iced,  eighteen  inches  across  and  ten  inches  in 
height,  and  surrounded  by  a  treble-curled  fringe  of  sil- 
ver paper.  In  the  hollow  in  the  middle  of  this  cake, 
left  by  the  funnel  of  the  mould,  was  planted  a  pretty, 


352  JUDITH: 

slender  holly  tree,  four  feet  high,  hung  with  fancy 
ketf,  and  wreaths  and  streamers  of  silver  filigree,  and 
closely  sprinkled  with  red  berries.  At  one  end  of  the 
table  was  a  tall  pyramid  of  jelly  and  ice-cream  ;  at  the 
other,  one  of  candied  oranges.  Both  were  built  about 
two  small  silver  rods,  and  to  the  tops  of  these  were 
fastened  silver-paper  festoons,  cut  exquisitely  into  pat- 
terns as  fine  as  lace,  connecting  the  pyramids  with  the 
tree.  Between  the  centre-piece  and  the  pyramids  were 
immense  cakes  iced  in  pink  and  white,  cheese-cakes, 
piles  of  snow-balls,  fruits,  nuts,  candies,  etc.  Another 
long  table  was  loaded  with  meats  of  all  kinds,  oysters, 
tea  and  coffee.  They  were  lighted,  as  were  all  the 
rooms,  by  wax  candles  in  tall  silver  candlesticks  hung 
with  tissue-paper  cut  in  every  imaginable  device,  then 
dipped  in  spermaceti  to  make  it  transparent.  On  the 
sideboard  were  superb  cut-glass  decanters  filled  with 
red  and  white  wine,  and  a  punch-bowl  so  enormous 
that  Judith  thinks  it  must  be  the  fellow  to  that  in  which 
the  three  wise  men  of  Gotham  went  to  sea.  There 
were  also  liqueurs  of  various  kinds  and  cherry-bounce, 
and  in  tbe  hall  another  big  bowl  of  egg-nogg,  refilled 
three  times  before  supper.  The  bride's  health  was 
drunk  in  Madeira  laid  down  in  Captain  Macon's  cellar 
the  day  Virginia  was  born. 

"  The  second-day  dinner  is  to  be  eaten  here  to-day. 
Virginia  is  to  wear  pale-blue  satin,  trimmed  with  old 
lace  that  belonged  to  her  own  mother.  I  need  not  tell 
you  how  very  lovely  she  looks  in  it,  nor  how  well  she 
and  Archie  behave.  One  might  suppose  they  had  been 
married  ten  years.  They  are  evidently  perfectly  satis- 
fied with  one  another.  About  twenty,  including,  of 
course,  the  bridesmaids  and  groomsmen-,  are  invited  to 
the  dinner.  To-morrow  we  leave  for  Summerfield  and 
comparative  quiet." 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         353 


CHAPTER  XXIH. 

MRS.  ARCHIBALD  BEAD'S  wedding-present  from  her 
father  was  characteristic  of  him  and  of  the  times  in 
which  he  lived.  She  went  to  her  new  home  in  a  hand- 
some carriage  built  expressly  for  her,  "R"  in  raised 
solid  silver  letters  on  the  doors  and  the  harness  of  a 
pair  of  blooded  roadsters  selected  and  bought  by  the 
Major,  who  was  a  famous  judge  of  horse-flesh.  On  the 
box  was  a  young  colored  man,  born  in  "the  family," 
whose  father  and  grandfather  had  been  reared  on  the 
Dabney  estate.  Beside  the  coachman — wrapped  up  to 
the  ears  in  shawls  and  blankets,  a  foot-stove  under  her 
feet — was  Dosia,  the  bride's  own  maid.  Both  of  the 
servants  were  to  form  a  part  of  the  Summerfield  estab- 
lishment henceforward,  and  lent  "tone"  of  no  weak 
character  to  the  equipage. 

The  bridal  pair  traveled  together,  Aunt  Maria,  myself 
and  Emmeline,  our  maid,  in  the  Summerfield  carriage. 
The  three  outriders  were  Uncle  Sterling  and  the  two 
other  groomsmen,  who  had  accompanied  us  on  our 
towmvard  journey,  three  days  earlier.  A  crew  of  chil- 
dren, white  and  black,  and  of  idling  servants  collected 
in  the  street  to  watch  the  departure  of  the  cortege. 
Aunt  Virginia's  "Mammy"  threw  an  old  shoe  after  the 
grand  new  chariot ;  Major  Dabney  and  the  boys  stood 
outside  of  the  gate,  blowing  their  noses  very  hard,  their 
eyes  watering  in  the  piercing  wind.  Mrs.  Dabney  we 
had  left  in  high  and  mighty  hysterics  on  the  parlor-sofa. 

"  I  never  imagined,"  said  I,  pertly,  subsiding  into  my 
corner  with  a  ponderous  respiration,  "  that  getting  mar- 


354  JUDITH: 

ried  was  such  a  dreadful  business.  Even  Uncle  Archie 
does  not  look  half  as  happy  as  he  ought  to  do.  As  for 
Miss — Aunt — Virginia,  she  can't  help  showing  that  she 
is  miserable,  and  the  rest  behave  as  if  Uncle  Archie 
were  an  ogre  carrying  her  off  to  a  cave  to  eat  her  up  at 
his  leisure.  Upon  my  word"  —  waxing  fretful,  for 
nerves  and  temper  were  on  edge — "  I  don't  see  why  she 
said  '  Yes'  to  him  if  she  was  going  to  feel  so  badly  about 
leaving  home.  He  didn't  oblige  her  to  do  it,  I  suppose. 
It  isn't  much  of  a  compliment  to  him  or  to  us,  the  way 
they  carry  on!" 

"  Hush,  my  love  I  You  may  understand  some  things 
better  when  you  are  older  and  have  seen  more  of  the 
world,"  was  all  the  reply  I  had. 

It  was  gently  uttered,  but  Aunt  Maria's  mild  dignity 
always  quelled  my  saucy  fits  more  effectually  than  did 
Aunt  Betsey's  lectures  or  my  mother's  occasional  sar- 
casm. 

My  mentor  was  hardly  in  her  usual  spirits  that  day, 
which  was  the  coldest  of  the  season.  I  fancied  that  the 
necessity  of  having  the  glasses  of  both  doors  closed  to 
exclude  the  biting  air  was  not  disagreeable  to  her  ;  that 
she  would  rather  think  than  chat  with  our  escorts. 
They  fared  hardly  enough,  although  their  surtouts 
were  heavy,  their  necks  and  ears  shielded  by  turned- 
up  collars  and  woolen  scarfs,  their  legs  incased  in  close 
"wrappers."  Every  few  miles  one  or  another  was 
obliged  to  dismount  and  walk  briskly  along  the  frozen 
turnpike  to  restore  circulation  to  his  limbs.  Blankets 
and  foot-stoves  kept  us  from  absolute  discomfort,  our 
vehicles  being  well-built  and  the  winter  wadding,  or 
"squabs" — to  wit,  cushioned  inner  curtains — exclud- 
ing the  searching  blasts.  Five  miles  out  of  town  we 
halted  suddenly  and  saw  that  the  carriage  injront  was 
stationary.  Uncle  Archie  opened  our  leeward  door. 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          355 

"  How  are  you  getting  on  in  here  ?  We  stopped  to 
let  Dosia  get  down  from  the  box.  Virginia  was  uneasy 
about  her.  She  is  not  strong  at  any  time,  and  this  is 
not  fit  weather  for  a  woman  to  be  out,  so  we  have  taken 
her  inside." 

"Put  her  in  here,''''  said  Aunt  Maria,  promptly. 
"  There  is  plenty  of  room,  you  see.  It  would  be  by 
far  the  better  arrangement  for  all." 

"What  a  jewel  of  a  sister!"  a  loving,  grateful  smile 
illumining  his  face.  "  I  never  thought  of  that.  If  you 
really  wouldn't  mind — " 

"I  should  like  it.  Don't  stand  there  freezing  your 
feet,  but  run  along  and  send  her  and  her  foot-stove  and 
bandbox  to  us!" 

In  another  minute  he  was  back  himself,  gravely  re- 
gretful. "Virginia  is  afraid  Dosia  would  crowd  you 
too  much,  there  being  three  of  you,  already,  and  only 
two  of  us.  She  says  if  anybody  is  inconvenienced  by 
her  maid  she  ought  to  be  that  one.  You  know  how 
unselfish  she  is.  The  girl  is  stowed  away  and  tucked 
in  with  the  whole  front  seat  to  herself.  I  am  just  as 
much  obliged  to  you,  Maria,  but  perhaps  it  is  best  to  let 
matters  remain  as  they  are.  Take  care  of  yourselves, 
and  keep  as  comfortable  as  you  can.  It  is  bitter 
weather !" 

He  spoke  fast,  for  it  was  freezing  cold,  shut  us  up 
again,  and  was  oft; 

"  Miss  Virginny  '11  sp'ile  Doshy  fo'  sho',  ef  she  hu- 
mors her  in  that  'ar  way,"  commented  country-bred 
Emmeline  in  strong  reprobation.  "I  don' know  what 
she's  a-thinkin'  'bout  to  be  willin'  to  stay  thar'.  She 
mought  have  sense  'nough  o'  her  own  fur  to  see  that 
'taint  noways  consequential  to  be  a-pushin'  herself  into 
a  cuarridge  'longside  o'  new-married  folks.  I  'd  'a'  friz 
stifier  'n  a  ice-sicfcle  'fore  I  'd  'a'  sot  foot  inside  1" 


856  JUDITH: 

"Miss  Virginia  is  always  thoughtful  of  others' com- 
fort, and  is  the  best  judge  of  her  own  affairs,"  replied 
Aunt  Maria  as  quietly  as  she  had  reproved  me  ;  then 
leaned  back  and  shut  her  eyes,  as  if  drowsy. 

We  dined  at  the  "House  of  Entertainment,"  and 
having  left  word  to  that  effect  on  our  way  to  Richmond, 
we  found  gloriously  hot  fires  and  a  bountiful  dinner 
ready  for  us,  with  host  and  hostess  in  holiday  attire  to 
receive  the  wedding-party.  The  hour  spent  within  the 
hospitable  hostelry  was  a  most  welcome  break  in  the 
severe  journey.  The  one  mitigation  of  its  rigor  was 
the  hardness  of  the  roads,  which  enabled  us  to  traverse 
the  distance  in  less  time  than  if  the  depth  of  winter 
mud  had  prevailed.  But  we  were  tossed  and  battered 
over  frozen  lumps  and  ridges  of  clay  as  over  so  many 
stones. 

We  had  started  early  and  traveled  well,  still  the  days 
were  at  their  shortest,  and  we  saw  the  sun  sink  into 
an  uninviting  bed  of  clouds  behind  the  rambling  roofs 
of  Summerfield  as  we  turned  into  the  half-mile  outer 
gate  of  the  plantation.  Aunt  Maria's  eyes  were  dark 
and  heavy,  her  cheeks  wan  now  that  the  need  of  exer- 
tion and  outward  cheerfulness  was  removed.  She  was 
very  silent  all  day,  and  I  had  slept  myself  into  better 
humor.  She  smoothed  my  tumbled  hair,  now,  tied  on 
my  hood  and  straightened  the  cape  of  my  cloak,  smiled 
and  spoke  pleasantly. 

"  How  good  it  will  seem  to  get  home  again  and  in 
such  happy  circumstances  !  And  if  we  are  tired  and 
cold  we  won't  be  cross  and  ungrateful,  Judith,  dear — 
will  we  ?" 

Not  one  jot  or  tittle  did  Avmt  Betsey  abate  of  the 
ceremonies  with  which  the  future  mistress  of  the 
homestead  should  be  brought  to  her  abiding-place. 
A  double  line  of  servants  fell  into  position  along  the 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          357 

walk  from  the  house  to  the  gate,  grinning  and  cour- 
tesying,  their  teeth  chattering  and  eyeballs  rolling 
with  excitement  and  cold.  Between  these  walked  the 
bride  on  her  husband's  arm,  Uncle  Sterling  at  her 
other  hand,  the  two  groomsmen  escorting  Aunt  Ma- 
ria and  my  puny,  consequential  self.  The  hall-door 
flew  wide  open  as  we  reached  the  steps,  and  Aunt 
Betsey,  arra}red  in  black  satin  and  sheer  lawn  stom- 
acher, issued  forth. 

"  Lift  her  over  the  threshold,  Archie  !"  cried  she, 
when  she  had  embraced  the  bride.  "  My  dear  boy ! 
don't  you  know  it  is  bad  luck  to  let  her  touch  her  foot 
to  the  sill?" 

He  obeyed  with  such  good-will  that  he  did  not  set 
down  his  lovely  burden  until  he  put  it  into  his  mother's 
arms.  They  had  not  suffered  Grandma  to  venture  into 
the  fireless  hall.  She  awaited  us  within  the  drawing- 
room,  a  striking  picture  in  her  gentle  stateliness ;  her 
fine  face  alight  with  youthful  fire,  her  beautiful  old 
hands  held  out  eagerly. 

"  My  dear  children  !" 

"  Oh,  mother  !"  It  was  a  piteous  cry  with  which  the 
girl,  who  could  not  recollect  her  own  mother,  cast  her- 
self on  the  tender  bosom  and  clung  there,  weeping  aloud 
and  wildly,  "  Mother  !  Mother!  Mother!" 

Grandma  motioned  Uncle  Archie  away  as  the  fit  of 
emotion  grew  violent,  and  beckoned  Mammy  to  her  aid. 
Between  them  they  got  Aunt  Virginia  to  the  chamber 
in  the  wing  which  had  been  made  brave  and  bright  for 
her  occupancy,  and  nursed  her  into  warmth  of  body 
and  outward  composure. 

Uncle  Archie  was  left  to  get  rid  of  his  chilliness  over 
the  fire  in  the  drawing-room,  and  to  parry  as  best  he 
could  the  impertinent  felicitations  of  his  brothers  who, 
at  first,  alarmed  by  the  reception-scene,  speedily  found 


358  JUDITH: 

in  it  infinite  amusement  when  coupled  with  the  circum- 
stance of  the  long  drive  the  newly-wedded  pair  had 
taken,  virtually  en  tete-a-tete,  Dosia  counting  for  nothing 
in  the  conversation.  I  could  have  fought  them  both  as 
they  piled  compassion  for  her  upon  remonstrance  with 
him  for  having  talked  her  to  death,  and  seriously  au- 
gured terrible  things  for  the  future  of  the  persecuted 
woman.  .  There  was  neither  wit  nor  sense  in  their 
rattle. 

"Do  stop  them,  Aunt  Maria  I"  entreated  I,  angry, 
unshed  tears  scalding  my  eyelids.  "  The}'  tease  him 
so  !  And  he  looks  so  sick  and  tired  1" 

"  He  can  afford  to  let  them  laugh  I"  She  slipped  her 
hand  under  her  brother's  arm  and  leaned  her  cheek  on 
his  sleeve,  as  he  stood  at  the  corner  of  the  hearth,  his 
elbow  on  the  mantel,  paler  than  I  had  ever  seen  him  in 
health,  and  hardly  seeming  to  hear  the  nonsense 
hummed  about  his  ears. 

"  Sterling  is  only  mad  with  jealousy,  and  Wythe  is 
his  echo,"  pursued  the  sister,  merrily.  "  Archie  under- 
stands this  too  well  to  listen  to  what  they  say.  Vir- 
ginia is  chilled  through  and  completely  tired  out, 
brother" — in  a  different  tone.  "She  has  kept  up  no- 
bly all  through  the  weeks  of  wedding-haste.  If  you 
could  see  the  work  she  has  done  you  would  wonder  that 
she  is  alive — not  that  she  broke  down  when  she  felt  that 
she  was  at  last  at  home  and  where  she  could  afford  to 
rest !" 

His  arm  encircled  her  with  an  abrupt  movement ;  his 
eyes  overflowed  with  the  fond  smile  that  unbent  his  lips. 

"There  was  never  such  another  woman  for  saying 
the  right  thing  at  the  right  time  !  Sterling  1"  resuming 
the  elder-brotherly  tone  that  always  enforced  respect — 
"will  you  go  up  stairs  and  see  that  Clem  and  Archer 
have  all  they  want  ?  Tell  Jack  to  keep  up  a  good  fire 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          359 

in  their  room  until  bed-time.  Supper  will  be  ready  in 
an  hour — did  you  say,  Aunt  Betsey  ?  Then  I  shall 
have  time  to  go  out  to  the  stables  and  give  an  eye  to 
things  generally." 

Aunt  Maria's  look  expostulated,  but  her  tongue  did 
not.  The  young  planter  paid  his  nightly  visit  of  in- 
spection to  the  farm-yard,  and  received  a  condensed 
report  from  his  head  man  of  what  had  been  done  in  his 
absence  ;  then,  coming  in,  made  the  needful  changes  in 
his  dress  in  his  mother's  room  not  to  disturb  his  wife, 
who  was  lying  down  in  her  apartment  while  Dosia  un- 
packed one  trunk.  "When  supper  was  ready  Aunt 
Betsey  sent  me  for  him. 

"Tell  him  he  must  bring  your  Aunt  Virginia  into 
the  dining-room,"  said  the  punctilio-loving  relative. 

Her  relish  of  the  situation  and  of  her  role  was  some- 
thing to  see  and  to  remember. 

Grandma  was  in  her  easy-chair.  Uncle  Archie  had 
thrown  himself  on  the  rug  at  her  feet,  and  sat,  holding 
her  hand  while  they  talked. 

"  Very  well !  You  will  wait  for  Grandma,"  he  said, 
when  my  message  was  delivered. 

He  tarried  an  instant  to  fold  her  shawl  about  her,  and 
to  lay  more  wood  on  her  fire.  His  mother's  comfort 
must  never  be  a  secondary  consideration. 

She  stood  behind  her  chair  at  table,  the  rest  of  us  in 
due  order  behind  ours,  when  the  butler,  privately  in- 
structed by  Aunt  Betsey,  flung  open  the  door  to  reveal 
the  wedded  twain  approaching,  arm-in-arm.  The  bride 
had  rallied  from  faintness  and  tearfulness ;  her  com- 
plexion was  brilliant,  her  blue  eyes  starry,  her  "second- 
day's  dress  "  enhanced  the  effect  of  her  fairness  and  the 
beauty  of  her  red-gold  curls.  The  man  beside  her 
looked  like  a  prince  in  the  glory  of  his  content.  He 
took  the  master's  post  at  the  foot  of  the  table,  placing 


360  JUDITH: 

her  beside  him,  and,  all  still  standing,  he  asked  a  bless- 
ing on  "the  food  provided  for  our  use."  Everything 
was  so  natural,  yet  so  utterly  unlike  the  olden  days 
when  almost  the  same  party  sat  at  meals  in  the  same 
room  for  weeks  together,  that  I  was  dazed  as  to  my 
whereabouts  and  identity. 

The  "  infair  "  supper  was  in  constituents  and  quan- 
tity expressive  of  Aunt  Betsey's  convictions  as  to  the 
importance  of  the  time  and  circumstances.  There  were, 
at  least,  ten  dishes  of  meat,  as  many  of  cake,  preserves, 
jellies,  etc. ;  the  same  number  of  varieties  of  hot  bread. 
The  groomsmen,  hungry  after  the  long,  cold  ride,  did 
ample  justice  to  the  feast,  and  were  kept  in  countenance 
by  my  younger  uncles.  Aunt  Maria  ate  sparingly ; 
Aunt  Virginia  strove  to  cover  her  lack  of  appetite  by  a 
social  flow  of  chat  with  those  near  her,  and  perhaps  did 
not  see  the  solicitous  glances  Uncle  Archie  stole  at  her 
plate.  He  would  never  annoy  her  by  overt  assiduity  of 
attention,  but  her  slightest  motion  did  not  escape  him. 

In  obedience  to  respectable  custom,  the  conversation, 
under  Aunt  Betsey's  direction,  contained  numerous 
references  to  the  wooing  and  betrothal. 

"A  fashion  which  is  less  considered  each  year,"  re- 
marked Mrs.  Waddell,  mournfully,  in  a  gap  that  gave 
her  opportunity  to  utter  the  lament  for  the  benefit  of 
recusants.  "  In  my  day  no  other  topic  was  thought  to 
be  quite  the  proper  thing  at  wedding  entertainments." 

"What  was  done  when  there  was  neither  courtship 
nor  engagement  in  the  usual  sense  of  the  terms  ?"  put 
in  Uncle  Archie,  boldly.  "  And  we  had  none — to  speak 
o//" 

The  general  laugh  diverted  notice  from  the  grateful 
look  the  wife  stole  at  him  from  under  her  lashes.  I  ap- 
prehended, if  she  did  not,  that  he  would  have  inter- 
posed his  hand  between  her  and  living  fire  as  readily  as 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          361 

he  raised  a  shield  to  turn  aside  gossip  that  might  con- 
fuse her. 

The  weather  had  not  moderated  by  half  a  degree  by 
the  following  morning,  but  a  gray  pall  was  stretched 
from  horizon  to  horizon  over  the  steel-blue  sky  of  yes- 
terday. It  was  too  cold  to  snow — much  too  cold  to 
rain — yet  the  clouds  drooped  gloomily  lower  as  the  day 
wore  into  afternoon.  Our  cousins,  the  Beads  from  Bur- 
ieigh,  and  the  Fonthill  Archers,  also  connected  with  us 
by  consanguineous  ties,  were  invited  to  dinner.  We 
could  not  have  a  "dining-day"  so  soon  after  Diana 
Macon's  death,  yet  the  company  of  relatives  should 
have  been  merrier  than  they  succeeded  in  becoming. 
The  elder  ladies  clustered  in  the  corners  nearest  the 
fire,  and  talked  soberly  in  mellow  Southern  accents ; 
their  husbands  discussed  politics  with  one  another  ana 
the  most  thoughtful  of  the  younger  men,  while  even 
Clem  Bead  faltered  perceptibly  in  the  unpromising  un- 
dertaking of  flirtation  with  the  unwedded  women  of 
the  party  who  were  all  his  first  cousins.  Aunt  Virginia 
wore  a  pea-green  silk  gown  with  delicate  lace  trim- 
mings, one  of  the  prettiest  in  her  trousseau.  She  did 
her  best,  in  attire  and  demeanor,  to  enliven  the  some- 
what too-domestic  scene,  and  must  have  been  secretly 
disheartened  at  the  result. 

If  she  did  not  draw  comparisons  between  it  and  the 
hilarious  junketing  of  one  year  agone,  I  did,  and  in  dis- 
satisfaction too  deep  for  endurance  or  expression.  It 
was  not  only  the  absence  of  the  brilliant  Macon  element, 
or  the  obtrusive  memory  of  their  sorrows,  nor  yet  the 
paucity  of  other  beaux  and  belles  that  wrought  flatness 
of  general  effect  and  induced  individual  depression.  I 
felt,  vaguely,  that  the  life  had  gone  out  of  everything  ; 
that  the  pretense  of  gayety  was  a  deplorable  and  obvi- 
ous fiction,  and  that  the  every-day  level  of  Summerfield 


363  JUDITH: 

existence  would  be  a  relief  after  the  prescribed  festivi- 
ties were  finally  and  thoroughly  disposed  of. 

When  dinner  was  over,  and  young,  old  and  middle- 
aged  women  surrounded  the  yule  fire  in  the  parlor, 
while  their  masculine  associates  smoked  in  the  dining- 
room,  I  abandoned  the  cast  of  fine  lady,  to  which  I  had 
taken  a  fancy  during  my  town  experiences.  It  might 
do  well  enough  there  ;  in  the  country  it  was  unremune- 
rative — at  my  age.  I  ran  up  stairs  for  my  cloak  and 
warm  red  hood,  convened  a  posse  of  dark-skinned 
attendants,  and  rushed  off  on  a  frolic  over  the  frost- 
bound  hills  with  the  zest  of  a  boy  let  loose  from  school. 
As  I  ran,  I  shouted  in  the  delight  of  the  relief,  and  my 
band  answered  with  Christmas  yells.  Aunt  Virginia, 
in  the  sedulous  talk-making  the  poor  girl  had  main- 
tained all  day,  had  said  in  my  hearing  how  fond  she 
was  of  persimmons,  and  that  they  were  rarely  brought 
to  the  Richmond  market.  There  was  a  persimmon- 
grove  not  far  from  the  plantation  gate,  and  this  was  the 
ostensible  object  of  the  expedition.  I  wondered,  while 
the  wild  scamper  warmed  my  blood  and  dispelled  the 
blue-devils  I  could  not  fight  in-doors,  if  the  pretty,  pa- 
tient chief  guest,  still  trying  to  make  talk  in  the  house 
I  left  further  behind  at  every  bound,  would  not  be  glad 
to  doff  her  pea-green  silk,  and  clad  in  sensible  merino, 
forget  dinner-party  and  bridehood  in  my  company. 

The  sharp  frosts  had  strewed  the  ground  with  fruit. 
There  was  a  saying  with  us  that  persimmons  were  not 
really  ripe  until  Christmas.  Those  we  picked  up  were 
slightly  shrivelled  like  the  skin  of  healthy  old  age  ;  in 
color,  dark-purple — almost  black,  and  touched  with  a 
silvery  film  as  a  plum  is  with  misty  blue.  Inside,  the 
glossy  brown  seeds  were  incased  in  juices,  sugared  to 
granulation,  a  dry,  dulcet,  mealy  pulp,  far  superior  in 
flavor  to  the  more  highly-esteemed  date.  I  sent  the 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          363 

boys  up  the  trees  when  we  had  cleared  the  ground 
under  them,  and  made  them  shake  down  fresh  supplies. 
At  last  I  climbed  a  small  tree  myself,  totally  oblivious 
of  so  much  as  a  shred  of  my  late  "best  behavior,"  and 
swung  gayly  in  the  supple  branches,  found  in  the  frozen 
fruit  a  more  sumptuous  dessert  than  all  Aunt  Betsey's 
dainties.  I  had  just  dropped  to  the  earth  by  letting 
myself  down  at  full  arm's  length  from  a  lower  bough 
when  one  of  my  convoy  gave  a  screech. 

"Lor',  Miss  Judith!  Looky  dar!  Dat  horse  done 
fall  down !" 

A  covered  "carryall,"  a  four-wheeled  cart  with  a 
long,  painted  wooden  body  and  a  tent-cloth  top,  was 
at  the  plantation  gate.  The  colored  driver  had  alighted 
to  unlatch  and  open  it,  but  had  brought  his  wretched- 
looking  horse  too  near  before  checking  him.  The  gate 
was  heavy  and  better  hung  than  those  the  man  was 
used  to  handling.  It  slipped  from  his  hold  at  the  first 
jerk  and  swung  open  with  such  force  as  to  knock  the 
jaded  beast  off  his  feet.  He  went  down  prone,  like  a 
dead  thing,  snapping  the  shaft  in  the  fall  and  made  no 
effort  to  rise. 

We  rushed  pell-mell  to  the  scene  of  action,  the  latter 
element  being  embodied  in  the  man's  kicks  and  tugs  at 
the  prostrate  animal,  and  the  agile  leap  from  the  rear 
of  the  vehicle  of  a  woman,  done  up  in  a  red  blanket- 
shawl.  She  interrupted  her  scolding  of  the  driver  by  a 
shriek  at  sight  of  me,  darted  forward  and  caught  me  in 
her  arms,  persimmons,  basket  and  all. 

"Miss  Judith!  Miss  Judith!  Mussiful  Marster  in 
heaven  !  ef  here  ain't  the  blessid  chile  herself!" 

I  knew  her  voice  before  I  did  her  face,  which  was  thin 
and  haggard,  woefully  changed  from  the  coquettish  pret- 
tiness  of  the  "red- winged  blackbird,"  Harry  Macon's 
maid. 


-364  JUDITH: 

"  Apphia  !"  I  gasped.     "  Where  is — " 

"  Hishe !  honey,  hishe !"  pointing  to  the  carryall. 
"  I  done  been  brung  her  back — what 's  left  of  her !" 

What  was  left  of  her  1  More  apt  description  could 
not  have  been  given  of  her  who  slowly  descended  from 
the  carryall  with  the  help  of  Apphia  on  one  side,  the 
colored  man  on  the  other.  The  eyes  looked  out  from 
hollows  where  lurked  ashy  shadows,  the  forehead  was 
bloodless,  the  nostrils  pinched,  the  lips  shrunken  and 
fever-dried.  On  each  cheek  was  a  botch  of  hectic 
scarlet,  kindling  up  fierily  when  Apphia  entreated 
her  not  to  alight. 

"  He  cannot  go  further !"  she  whispered,  nodding  to- 
ward the  horse.  "  I  will  walk  !" 

But  she  staggered  at  the  first  step  and  leaned  against 
the  wheel.  Apphia  pulled  a  blanket  from  the  cart, 
wrapped  her  in  it  from  head  to  foot,  and  made  her  sit 
down  on  a  fallen  tree- trunk  in  the  lee  of  a  bushy  cedar. 

"  Come  here,  Miss  Judith,  and  stay  'long  her — won't 
you — please  ?  I  've  got  to  help  him  hyste  that  horse  up, 
I  s'pose.  'Fore  I'd  be  sech  an  empty-headed,  awk'ard 
buzzard  as  not  to  know  how  to  open  a  gate !  Here  ! 
some  of  you,  thar' !  pick  up  your  feet  an'  run  to  the 
house  fas'  as  you  can  clip  it,  an'  tell  Mars'  Archie  Read 
how  Miss  Harry  Macon  is  here — mighty  sick  and  mos' 
frozen  to  death,  an'  won't  he  sen'  somethin',  if  'tain't 
nothin'  but  a  tumbler-cuart,  for  to  fetch  her  in.  Be 
off!" 

Without  a  look  after  the  bevy  that  flew  like  startled 
snow-birds  at  her  imperious  mandate,  she  bent  the  en- 
ergies of  arm  and  tongue^  to  the  effort  to  help  the  horse 
up  and  to  the  salutary  beratement  of  his  owner. 

"I  wouldn't  lift  a  finger  to  help  either  you  or  your 
crow-bait,"  she  took  care  to  inform  the  fellow,  uef 
'twasn't  that  your  rubbish  has  got  to  be  cleared  'way 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          365 

from  the  gate  to  let  Mr.  Archibald  Eead's  carriage  pass 
through !" 

Horror-stricken  into  dumbness,  I  stood  behind  Miss 
Harry  (I  never  think  of  her  by  any  other  name),  put 
my  arms  around  her  and  tried  to  uphold  her  against 
my  chest.  She  shivered  with  cold  or  agitation,  and 
coughed  several  times  so  violently  that  she  leaned  back, 
quite  spent  in  my  embrace  at  the  close  of  each  pa- 
roxysm. Her  eyes  were  shut  and  I  thought  she  was 
dying.  Apphia's  emissaries  sped  fast,  and  there  was 
assuredly  no  lagging  in  the  response  to  the  summons 
they  bore.  But  months  have  been  briefer  to  me  than 
the  interval  during  which  my  benumbed  feet  seemed 
freezing  to  the  iron  earth,  and  colder  dreads  settled  hor- 
ribly on  my  soul.  Two  or  three  of  the  least  of  the 
colored  children  huddled  together  at  a  terrified  distance 
and  watched  us ;  Apphia  and  the  stupefied  driver  got 
the  horse  up,  and  he  tied  the  pieces  of  the  broken  thill 
together  with  a  rope  he  drew  from  the  straw  in  the 
bottom  of  the  cart,  she  holding  the  fragments  in  place, 
her  sharp  tongue  never  still.  The  drooping  clouds  bor- 
rowed increasing  darkness  from  approaching  night ;  the 
wind  murmured  ceaselessly  in  the  pine  tops,  and  pres- 
ently fine,  close  rain  began  to  sift  down  upon  us,  glazing 
the  carryall-top  and  the  log  on  which  Miss  Harry  sat. 
Apphia  begged  her  to  get  back  into  the  cart,  but  she 
opened  her  eyes  in  a  vacant  stare,  a  bemused,  uncompre- 
hending look,  and  shook  her  head.  The  woman  poured 
something  from  a  bottle  into  a  cup,  and  held  it  reso- 
lutely to  the  parched  lips  until  it  was  swallowed.  My 
tears  found  vent  and  trickled  silently  down  my  face 
as  I  saw  Apphia  wipe  hers  away  with  a  corner  of  her 
shawl. 

The  drizzle  was  a  dense  veil  between  us  and  the 
homestead,  and  the  beat  of  many  swift  feet  on  the 


366  JUDITH: 

frozen  road  was  the  first  token  we  had  that  help  was  at 
hand.  Uncle  Archie  was  foremost  in  the  race.  Too 
anxious  to  wait  while  the  carriage  was  made  ready,  he 
had  ordered  that  it  should  follow  him  with  speed,  and 
run  all  the  way  from  the  house.  "With  the  perverse  dis- 
position to  mark  trifles  that  besets  us  in  supreme  crises, 
I  noted  that  he  had  come  out  in  his  low  shoes  and 
without  hat  or  surtout.  He  was  white  and  out  of 
breath,  and  the  forked  vein  in  his  forehead  was  swollen 
and  blue.  Halting  momentarily  a  few  feet  from  us,  he 
steadied  himself  for  the  meeting,  walked  quietly  up  to 
my  charge,  dropped  on  one  knee,  took  her  in  his  arms, 
and  kissed  her  as  he  would  his  sister. 

"  Lean  all  your  weight  on  me,  Harry  !  The  carriage 
will  be  here  directly." 

Not  a  syllable  more  was  spoken,  until  he  lifted  her 
like  a  child  in  his  arms  and  laid  her  among  the  pillows 
Aunt  Betsey  had  put  into  the  carriage. 

"  Get  in,  Judith,"  he  said  to  me,  and  himself  stepped 
in  after  us,  supporting  the  sinking  form  on  his  broad 
breast  until  we  were  at  home. 

This  was  his  fulfillment  of  the  compact  on  which  they 
had  shaken  hands  eleven  months  before  this  Christmas 
night. 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         367 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

A  MOTTNTED  messenger  had  spurred  off  in  one  direc- 
tion through  the  rainy  darkness  for  the  doctor.  Clem 
Read  had  gone  in  person  to  Hunter's  Rest  to  convey 
the  intelligence  of  the  prodigal's  return.  The  coaches 
from  Burleigh  and  Fonthill  had  rolled  away,  the  lamps 
shedding  sparkles  of  tremulous  light  upon  the  sleety 
twigs  of  wayside  brushwood  and  striking  broadly  on 
bank  and  tree-bole,  thinly  coated  with  ice.  Below- 
stairs  and  in  the  outlying  servants'  houses  the  subdued 
stir  of  intense  emotion  was  like  the  muffled  breathing 
of  a  single  strong,  living  thing.  Those  who  walked 
trod  on  tiptoe ;  those  who  talked  spoke  in  hurried  whis- 
pers. Grandma  and  her  sons  sat  together  over  the 
dining-room  fire,  scarcely  exchanging  a  sentence  from 
one  minute  to  another.  Aunt  Betsey  slipped  sound- 
lessly from  chamber  to  chamber,  making  ready  for 
those  who  would  be  with  us  before  midnight — the  phy- 
sician, the  brothers,  and  possibly  the  father  of  her 
whose  earthly  life  was,  for  aught  we  could  see,  nar- 
rowed down  to  the  measure  of  hours. 

They  had  put  her  to  bed  in  Aunt  Maria's  room.  Un- 
observed in  the  preoccupation  of  the  attendants,  I 
crept,  cold  and  forlorn  and  all  dressed  as  I  was,  into 
my  own  little  bed  in  the  remote  corner  of  the  apart- 
ment, and  had  the  comfort  of  feeling  myself  out  of  the 
way,  yet  where  I  would  not  lose  sight  of  the  sufferer. 
My  fondness  for  her  was  augmented  into  a  passion  ot 
devotion  by  the  romantic  episodes  of  our  intercourse 
during  the  spring,  and  by  commiseration  for  her  present 


368  JUDITH: 

evil  plight.  I  was  in  childlike  earnest  when  I  said  to 
myself  that  I  would  willingly  lay  down  my  life  if  by  so 
doing  I  could  put  her  back  into  her  father's  arms,  the 
incarnation  of  youth,  beauty  and  joy  she  had  been  a 
year  ago.  As  it  was,  I  could  do  nothing  but  pray  for 
her,  and  my  faith  was  weak  as  to  the  efficacy  of 
ungrammatical  petitions  not  ordered  according  to  ec- 
clesiastical rules.  Such  poor  ejaculations  as  formed 
themselves  in  my  thoughts  arose  no  higher  than  my 
head,  like  bits  of  thistle-down  in  damp  air.  I  hoped 
the  Lord  understood  how  much  I  wanted  my  dear  Miss 
Harry  to  get  well,  and  how  unhappy  I  was  when  I 
could  not  make  a  prayer  good  enough  in  which  to  ask 
Him  to  bless  and  cure  and  make  up  to  her  for  all  she 
had  undergone  ;  but  I  had  grave  and  harrowing  doubts 
whether  they  ever  got  to  His  ears  or  not.  It  was  not 
likely  that  a  little  ignoramus,  half-frightened  out  of  her 
wits  by  the  imminence  of  the  peril,  could  frame  "  an 
acceptable  petition."  Uncle  Archie's  morning  family 
devotions  included  a  clause  that  entreated  blessings  on 
"  all  who  are  near  and  dear  unto  us."  In  my  misery  I 
fumbled  the  phrase  over  and  over  in  my  mind  as  mea- 
surably available  in  the  circumstances,  whispering  me- 
chanically, while  my  senses  were  intent  upon  the  scenes 
before  me : 

"  O  Lord  I  bless  those  who  are  near  and  dear  to  us; 
and  suffer  no  accident  to  befall  them  this  day  I" 

Silence  succeeded  the  bustle  of  removal  and  disrob- 
ing. Mammy  had  gone  to  the  kitchen  to  make  broth 
and  tisanes.  Aunt  Maria  and  Aunt  Virginia  watched 
at  the  bedside.  The  rays  of  a  shaded  lamp  on  the 
mantel  showed  dimly  the  gala  dresses  the  sisters-in-law 
had  not  bethought  themselves  to  lay  aside.  Harry 
rested  high  among  the  pillows,  her  respiration  easier  as 
she  dozed  off  into  a  natural  slumber,  her  face  ghastly 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          369 

but  for  the  red  spots  that  seemed  to  glow  through  the 
half-lights  of  the  chamber.  She  had  lain  thus  for  per- 
haps an  hour,  her  watchers  as  motionless  as  herself, 
when  suddenly  she  opened  her  great  eyes  wide  and  di- 
rectly upon  Aunt  Virginia. 

"I  didn't  want  you  to  marry  him!"  she  said,  dis- 
tinctly, although  her  voice  was  thin  and  shrill  with 
weakness.  "  I  told  you  Archie  Read  was  the  stronger 
of  the  two — the  noblest  fellow  in  the  world — and  had 
loved  you  long  and  well.  But  you  needn*t  have  jilted 
the  other.  It  almost  broke  his  heart." 

It  was  Aunt  Maria's  hand  that  stroked  the  fevered 
cheek  caressingly,  her  soft  accents  that  strove  to  dispel 
the  delirium.  "Harry  I  dear  child  !  you  are  dreaming. 
You  are  at  home — at  Summerfield — Grandma  Bead's — 
don't  you  know  ?  Don't  try  to  talk,  until  you  are 
stronger !" 

"I  must  find  out  the  truth.  My  word  is  pledged  ! 
He  was  so  good  to  me  in  Philadelphia  that  I  want  to 
show  my  gratitude  in  some  way — before  I  die.  I  used 
to  think — I  believed — that  he  was  in  love — with  you, 
Maria — " 

"  Harry  !  wake  up,  dear !  I  cannot  let  you  run  on 
so  !  You  distress  yourself.  Never  mind  about  it  now. 
There  will  be  time  enough  to  tell  us  by-and-by  !" 

I  may  have  been  mistaken,  but  I  fancied  I  saw  an 
involuntary  smile  sweep  over  the  pitying  face  of  the 
nurse  as  she  cooed  dissuasives  in  the  ears  of  the  excited 
invalid.  She  brought  water  and  bathed  Harry's  head 
and  wrists,  apparently  totally  unsuspicious  that  there 
was  weight  or  coherence  in  the  broken  Sentences.  The 
sick  woman  put  her  by  with  an  impatient  gesture — the 
regal  air  that  belonged  to  her  former  self. 

"He  told  me  all  about  it  one  night.  I  never  really 
knew  Mr.  Bradley  until  then.  He  said  his  love  for  you 


370  JUDITH: 

was  a  passing  fancy — 'born  of  propinquity,'  he  said. 
You  know  how  he  puts  things.  That  his  heart  had 
been  Virginia  Dabney's  from  the  first  da}r  he  saw  her. 
He  kept  it  a  secret  while  he  lived  here.  He  thought 
Archie  loved  her,  and  he  was  his  friend.  After  he- 
went  to  Richmond  she  told  him  that  Archie  could 
never  be  more  to  her  than  a  dear  brother.  There 
was  nothing  dishonorable,  then —  Sit  still !  I  must 
speak !" 

For  Aunt  Maria  on  one  side,  Aunt  Virginia  on  the 
other,  had  arisen  by  a  common  impulse,  staring  straight 
into  one  another's  eyes  across  the  death-bed.  Such  a 
look  I  blank  with  amaze,  woeful  to  agony,  despairing  as 
the  gaze  of  the  lost !  For  one  second  each  saw  this  in 
her  sister's  face ;  then,  the  three-days  wife  fell  on  her 
knees  with  a  stifled  cry  and  buried  her  head  in  the  cov- 
erlet as  if  to  escape  from  mortal  sight. 

Aunt  Maria  stooped  to  Harry's  ear. 

"  Do  you  know  what  you  are  saying,  Harry  Macon  ? 
Look  at  me  !  I  am  Maria  Bead.  You  are  feverish 
and  wandering — are  you  not,  dear  ?" 

A  dreary  smile  wrung  the  altered  features. 

"  I  know  you  better  than  I  do  myself.  You  call  me 
'  Harry  Macon. '  I  thought  once  that  I  was  Mrs.  War- 
ing. I  have  had  three  or  four  aliases  since  then.  But 
I  haven't  strength  or  time  to  talk  of  my  affairs.  I 
promised  Mr.  Bradley  solemnly  that  you —  Where  is 
Virginia  Dabney  ?"  lifting  her  head  to  look  for  her. 
"  I  am  glad  to  see  that  you  are  sorry  you  treated 
him  so  cruelly.  Why  did  you  send  his  letters  back 
as  fast  as  they  came,  without  a  word  of  explanation  ? 
It  was  shameful  unkindness.  It  was  unladylike,  too, 
and  that  surprised  me.  It  will  be  visited  upon  you  be- 
fore you  die.  All  my  folly  and  hardness  of  heart  has 
come  home  to  me  sevenfold.  '  God  is  not  mocked. 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          371 

Whatsoever  a  man  soweth  that  shall  he  also  reap.' 
That  is  the  fire  that  is  consuming  me.  Oh !  I  am  so 
thirsty  !" 

Aunt  Maria  raised  her  to  drink  the  lemonade  she 
held  to  her  mouth,  but  without  speaking.  Aunt  Vir- 
ginia arose  slowly,  her  rosy  face  blanched,  her  eyes 
dilated ;  wrung  her  hands  hard,  then  lifted  them 
clenched  and  high  toward  Heaven. 

"As  the  Lord  lives,  I  did  no  such  thing!  I  never 
had  a  letter  from  him  after  he  left  Richmond  last  July ! 
I  wrote  to  him  four  times  begging  him  to  explain  his 
silence.  Oh,  who  has  done  this  wicked  thing  ?  My 
darling  !  my  poor,  deceived,  true  love  !  What  shall  I 
do?  what  shall  I  do  ?" 

Harry  sat  upright,  trembling  and  eager,  a  dreadful 
splendor  in  her  eyes. 

"  Write  to  him  this  very  night !  I  have  his  address. 
How  happy  he  will  be  !  Through  me,  too  !  He  was  so 
kind — so  kind  !" — yielding  to  the  gentle  violence  with 
which  Aunt  Maria  drew  her  back  to  the  pillow.  "  Thank 
God  I  can  do  some  good  !  Now — I — can — sleep  !" 

The  young  wife  swept  hurriedly  by  me  to  the  door  ; 
the  swish  of  her  silken  skirts  died  away  on  the  stairs. 
Aunt  Maria  sought  a  cordial  and  pressed  it  upon  the 
exhausted  patient,  covered  her  up  and  waited,  her  fin- 
gers on  the  wasted  wrist,  to  see  her  lapse  into  slumber. 
Then  her  head  fell  on  her  breast,  and  a  single  groan 
tore  its  way  through  heart  and  lips : 

"Oh,  my  God!" 

Distraught  and  hopeless  though  she  was,  the  cry  was 
a  prayer. 

Profound  stillness  filled  the  room.  The  sick  woman 
slept ;  the  watcher  made  neither  moan  nor  motion. 
The  rising  wind  cried  fretfully  outside,  and  the  sleet 
hissed  against  the  panes.  The  dull  flame  of  the  single 


872  JUDITH: 

lamp  swayed  slightly  in  the  air  that  found  its  way  be- 
tween the  sashes,  brought  out  flickering  gleams  of  rudd}1 
sheen  from  the  folds  of  Aunt  Maria's  garnet  silk  gown. 
She  had  sunk  to  the  floor,  her  elbows  on  the  bed,  her 
face  hidden  by  her  hands.  The  graceful  head  had  the 
droop  of  a  bruised  flower.  Of  all  the  sad  scenes  and 
crises  that  have  come  into  my  life,  none  has  been  more 
utterly  tristful,  more  lightless  than  this. 

In  trying  to  grasp  the  complication  of  mystery  and 
calamity,  my  brain  succumbed  wearily  into  a  heavy 
sleep  that  lasted  until  daylight. 

I  awoke  with  a  startled  sense  that  I  was  in  a  crowd 
of  people,  all  staring  at  me.  My  corner  was  clear,  but 
about  the  bed  at  the  far  side  of  the  chamber  were  col- 
lected those  whose  presence  had  wrought  the  oppres- 
sion of  my  dream.  Captain  Macon  was  close  beside  his 
daughter  on  the  left,  facing  me,  holding  one  of  her 
hands.  Sidney's  cheek  was  laid  on  the  other  as  he 
knelt  at  her  right.  Koderick  leaned  against  the  foot- 
board, shaking  with  sobs,  his  handkerchief  to  his  eyes. 
Uncle  Archie  stood  behind  Captain  Macon 's  chair, 
gazing  in  mournful  steadfastness  at  his  old  playfellow 
and  pet.  His  arm  was  about  his  wife's  waist,  and  she 
clung  to  him,  her  face  hidden  on  his  breast.  Aunt 
Betsey  held  a  glass  of  cordial,  hoping  against  certainty 
that  the  dying  woman  might  revive  sufficiently  to 
swallow  a  few  drops.  Grandma  was  at  the  bed-head, 
and  in  her  clear,  wistful  eyes  was  prophecj'  that  outran 
faith,  the  beckoning  of  some  safe  spirit  on  the  Other 
Side  rather  than  the  farewell  benediction  of  one  who 
expected  soon  to  follow  the  passing  soul.  Mammy  was 
by  her,  her  arms  crossed  meekly  on  her  bosom,  her 
head  bowed — waiting.  Aunt  Maria's  tender  arms  had 
raised  the  sufferer  at  her  own  request.  She  sat  on  the 
bed,  supported  by  the  head-board  ;  Harry  rested  against 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          373 

her,  her  head  on  her  shoulder,  her  cheek  against  the 
pure,  sad  face  bent  toward  her. 

She  was  going — fast  but  painlessly,  each  breath  more 
faint  than  the  last.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  in  an  upward 
look,  but  she  smiled  as  her  father  leaned  over  to  kiss 
her — the  loving,  grateful  gleam  that  quivers  about  the 
mouth  of  a  drowsy  child  under  her  mother's  "good- 
night "  caress.  In  a  minute  more  Uncle  Archie  set  his 
wife  aside  gently,  stepped  forward,  took  the  still  shape 
from  his  sister's  embrace,  laid  it  down,  and  closed  the 
eyes  with  a  solemn,  brotherly  pressure. 

From  Apphia  we  gathered  the  story  of  Harry's  wan- 
derings since  she  fled  at  midnight  from  her  father's 
door.  Her  entreaties  that  her  husband  would  fulfill  his 
promise  of  taking  her  to  England  were  parried  for 
awhile  by  his  protestations  that  he  had  not  the  ready 
money  in  hand  for  the  vo}rage.  After  the  arrival  of  the 
cases  sent  from  Hunter's  Rest,  she,  with  Apphia's  Help, 
sold  all  her  jewels  and  laces  and  procured  the  sum 
needed  to  defray  the  expenses  of  the  three  across  the 
ocean  and  to  Fairwold  Hall.  Apphia  had  only  conjec- 
tures to  offer  as  to  the  particulars  of  the  scene  attend- 
ant on  her  proffer  of  the  money  to  the  exile.  But 
Harry  never  spoke  afterward  of  going  to  England  and 
fell — purposely,  or  because  those  about  her  used  the 
name — into  the  habit  of  speaking  of  her  husband  as 
"Mr.  Trevelyan."  From  this  interview  Apphia  also 
dated  his  changed  demeanor  toward  his  wife.  Up  to 
that  time  he  had  played  the  lover-husband  and  the  pol- 
ished gentleman.  Thenceforward,  he  was  sulky,  sar- 
castic, occasionally  violent,  upbraiding  her  continually 
for  her  obstinate  refusal  to  apply  to  her  father  for  pecu- 
niary aid,  threatening  to  abandon  her  to  disgrace  and 
poverty,  allowing  her  to  go  penniless  for  weeks,  and 
leaving  her  with  her  faithful  servant  in  miserable  lodg- 


874  JUDITH: 

ings  in  country  or  village  while  he  was  "starring"  with 
circus  troupes  in  the  principal  cities  of  the  North  and 
East.  Finally,  he  gave  her  the  choice  between  writing 
to  her  father,  divulging  the  true  state  of  affairs  and  ask- 
ing him  to  maintain  her  and  the  man  she  had  married 
— and  taking  care  of  herself  for  the  future  without  his 
assistance. 

The  betrayed  wife  was  proud  enough  and  strong 
enough  to  accept  the  alternative,  but  in  the  prostra- 
tion of  a  broken  heart,  she  revealed  to  Apphia  that 
neither  John  Waring  nor  Frederic  Trevelyan  was  the 
man's  real  name.  He  was  the  natural  son  of  a  disso- 
lute English  baronet  who  had  educated  him  showily, 
and  attached  him  to  his  person  in  a  mongrel  capacity — 
part  companion,  part  secretary,  part  jester.  His  mother 
was  an  Italian  ballet-dancer,  of  whom  the  boy  had  no 
recollection.  He  traveled  and  rioted  with  his  fathej 
after  leaving  school,  the  baronet  glorying  in  the  lad's 
beauty  and  sprightliness,  most  of  all  in  his  athletic 
feats,  and  encouraging  his  intimacies  with  habitu&s  of 
cock-pits,  circuses  and  races,  not  to  mention  worse 
places.  The  twain  lived  high  and  fast  until  the  elder 
fell  dead  of  apoplexy  at  the  conclusion  of  a  nocturnal 
carousal,  and  his  property  descended  to  his  legal  heirs. 
At  twenty-one  the  pseudo  John  Waring  belonged  to  a 
theatrical  company,  something  after  the  order  of  the 
modern  variety  show,  where  his  skill  in  gymnastic  ex- 
ercises was  even  more  popular  than  his  vocalization. 
Both,  with  his  magnificent  physique,  were  inherited  from 
his  mother.  At  twenty-seven  he  had  journeyed  far  and 
sustained  many  characters,  more  or  less  brilliantly.  His 
masterpiece  of  fraud  was  the  well-sustained  guise  in 
which  he  secured  admission  to  Major  Dabney's  house 
and  won  Harry  Macon's  heart. 

It  was  a  pitifully  common,  vulgar  tale  up  to  that 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         375 

epoch ;  a  catalogue  of  venal  cheats  and  jugglery, 
shrewdly  planned  and  audaciously  executed.  The 
tragic  element  was  added  on  the  night  of  his  elope- 
ment with  the  petted  daughter  of  a  noble  family.  He 
deserted  her  in  Philadelphia  the  latter  part  of  August, 
and  she  had  never  heard  from  him  since  then.  She 
lived  in  one  small  garret-room  with  her  devoted  re- 
tainer, their  united  efforts  barely  sufficing  to  earn  the 
necessaries  of  life.  The  mistress  took  in  fine  sewing 
from  customers  for  whom  Apphia  did  clear-starching 
and  ironing.  One  November  evening  as  the  latter  was 
hurrying  homeward  after  a  day's  work,  she  met  under 
a  lamp  on  Chestnut  Street  a  man  who  accosted  her  by 
name.  It  was  Mr.  Bradley.  She  took  him  with  her  up 
to  the  mean  attic  to  which  her  mistress  had  been  con- 
fined for  a  month  by  a  severe  cold.  The  ci-devant 
tutor  recognized  at  a  glance  that  the  malady  was  more 
deeply-seated  than  Apphia  feared  or  Harry  dared  hope. 
He  returned  next  day  with  a  physician,  who  confiden- 
tially confirmed  his  fears.  Mr.  Bradley  found  an  oppor- 
tunity to  tell  Apphia  that  her  mistress'  one  chance  of 
life  lay  in  her  return  to  Virginia.  The  doctor  under- 
took to  build  up  her  strength  so  far  as  to  enable  her  to 
take  the  journey.  Change  of  air  and  good  nursing 
must  accomplish  the  rest. 

From  the  hour  Harry  heard  of  the  project  she  rallied 
marvelously.  She  bound  Mr.  Bradley  over  by  a  solemn 
pledge  not  to  write  to  her  friends  at  home  that  she  was 
found.  She  would  go  back  to  them  in  person,  praying 
for  pardon  and  an  asylum.  But  he  called  often,  paid 
secretly  through  Apphia  for  better  food  and  a  constant 
fire,  and  insisted  upon  lending  "Mrs.  Macon  "  money 
for  traveling  expenses.  By  the  second  week  of  Decem- 
ber the  physician  advised  that  they  should  set  out  for 
Virginia.  They  had  come  by  easy  stages  "across  the 


376  JUDITH: 

country,"  Apphia  said,  part  of  the  way  by  public  con- 
veyance. The  carryall  that  brought  them  to  our  gate 
was  hired  in  Lynchburg  from  the  free  negro  who  drove 
it,  and  was  the  best  their  failing  funds  could  procure. 

"  She  jes'  didn't  dar'  to  go  to  Hunter's  Res' !"  said 
Apphia  to  me,  the  afternoon  of  the  day  on  which  Harry 
died.  "She  was  fa'r  afeerd  o'  her  father  and  Mars' 
Sidney." 

She  and  I  were  in  Mammy's  house,  and  nobody  else 
was  near.  The  big  back-log  of  the  fire  was  a  mass  of 
scarlet  charcoal,  and  night  was  settling  down  apace  at 
the  other  side  of  the  room.  In  her  sincere  distress  the 
maid  was  frank  in  her  confidences,  and  her  knowledge 
of  how  well  I  had  loved  her  whom  we  both  mourned 
opened  her  heart  fully  to  my  appeals  and  inquiries. 

"  She  was  sure  we  would  not  turn  her  away,"  I  swal- 
lowed my  sobs  to  say. 

"  That 's  what  she  said  many  a  time,  honey  !  'Mr. 
Archie  Read  is  the  truest,  best  man  the  good  Lord  ever 
made,'  says  she.  '  He  promis'  me  once  that  he  'd  never 
cast  me  off,  no  matter  what  I  do.  He  's  like  his  Mars- 
ter  in  that.  "When  my  father  an'  my  mother  'd  forsake 
me,  he  'd  take  me  up.  An'  I  don'  think  Aunt  Betsey  'd 
'fuse  to  take  me  in  an'  let  me  set  at  the  secon'  table 
anyhow,'  says  she,  sort  o'  laughin'  to  herself.  Once 
she  call'  to  me  in  the  middle  of  the  night  when  we  was 
a-stoppin'  at  a  mizzable  pore-white-folksey  tavern,  an' 
ef  I  was  a-dying'  this  minnit  I  'd  declar'  to  goodness 
the  bed  the  pore  lady  was  a-layin'  on  was  stuffed 
with  corn-husks.  'Apphia,'  says  she,  ;I  should  like 
to  get  thar'  in  time  to  die  in  Maria's  bed.  I  never  slep' 
so  sweet  in  anybody  else  's  bed  as  I  used  to  in  Ma- 
ria's,' says  she,  'nor  had  sech  lovely  dreams  on  any 
other  piller  as  on  hern.  I  think  that  was  'cause  she  is 
so  heavenly  pure  herself.  The  angels  has  'special 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          377 

charge  over  Maria  Read.  I  'd  like  to  die  under  the 
shelter  o'  their  wings.' 

"Another  time  she  tole  me  she  done  pick' out  the 
tex'  o'  her  funeral  sermon,  an'  I  mus'  be  sure  not  to 
forgit  it.  It  was,  'Reproach  hath  broken  my  heart. ' 
'Twas  true  as  Gospel  too — them  words  !  He  made  like 
he  'd  knock  me  down  one  day  when  I  said  to  him  when 
she  war'n't  in  the  room  that  my  young  mistis  war'n't 
use'  to  sech  rough  talk  as  he  giv'  her  all  the  time.  An' 
when  he  stomped  his  foot  an'  grit  his  teeth  at  me  for 
speakin'  so  plain,  I  riz  right  up  an'  sot  my  arms  in 
timber  "  (akimbo),  "an'  dar'd  him  to  tech  me. 

" '  This  yer  's  a  free  state  !'  says  I.  '  Ef  you  lay  the 
weight  o'  yer  p'isonous  han'  on  me,  I  '11  put  the  law  on 
you !  I  ain't  your  wife,  nor  your  dog,  nor  your  nig- 
ger !'  says  I.  '  I  been  live'  all  my  life  with  quality  gen- 
'lemen  an'  ladies  whar  knowed  how  to  treat  respectable 
servants !'  says  I. 

"  Ah !  he  was  the  bigges'  vilyan  the  Lord  ever  'lowed 
to  cuss  His  footstool !" 

"How  does  Mr.  Bradley  look  ?"  I  asked. 

"Han'somer  'n  ever,  an'  peart  as  could  be.  He  was 
a  puffic'  angel  o'  ministerin'  mercy  to  my  pore  young 
lady.  I  been  hear'  her  prayin'  for  him  o'  nights  when 
she  couldn't  res'  an'  thought  I  was  fas'  asleep,  an' 
thankin'  her  Heavenly  Father  for  sendin'  him  to  her 
when  she  was  ready  to  perish." 

She  took  a  handful  of  corn-cobs  from  a  basket  on  the 
hearth,  threw  them  on  the  coals  and  pensively  watched 
them  blaze. 

"I  suttinly  hope  marster  '11  pay  him  back  all  the 
money  he  done  spen'  for  we-all.  But  for  him,  my 
blessid  young  mistis  would  'a'  died  in  that  despiseable 
furren  country.  How  her  eyes  'd  shine  up  the  minnit  she 
heerd  him  a-comin'  up  the  sta'r-steps  !  They  had  talks 


378  JUDITH: 

together  by  the  hour  'bout  home-folks  an'  ole  times." 

"  Had  he — had  you  heard  of  Miss  Diana's  death  be- 
fore you  got  here  ?'' 

"  Xot  a  word,  honey-chile  I  I  'm  fa'r  thankful  Miss 
Harry  went  to  Heaven  'thout  knowin'  that  her  sister 
had  flewed  that  'ar'  way  before  her.  'T  mus'  'a'  been 
a  sweet  surprise  to  them  meetin'  thar,  an'  'long  with 
their  mother,  too  !  An'  didn't  you  notice,  Miss  Judith, 
how  arfter  her  father  had  come,  and  she  'd  once  put  her 
arms  'round  his  neck  an'  arsked  him  to  forgive  her,  an1 
he  'd  kissed  an'  blessed  her,  that  arfter  that  never  a 
blemish  rolled  over  her  weary  soul,  but  she  jes'  gave 
her  life  out  easy,  like  a  baby  that  didn't  know  'nough  to 
be  afeerd  ? 

"Xo,  sugar-pie!  we  hadn't  never  heerd  nothin'  'bout 
Miss  Diana's  d}ring  nor  Miss  Virginny  Dabney's  mar- 
ryin'  Mars'  Archie.  "Weddin's  come  'bout  stranger  'n 
fun'rals,  'pears-like  to  me  sometimes." 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         379 


CHAPTEE  XXV. 

In  the  month  of  February,  1845,  Mrs.  Archibald 
Read  paid  me  a  visit  at  my  home  in  Richmond.  I 
had  married  her  brother  Wickham  five  years  earlier.  I 
called  her  "sister,"  not  "aunt,"  and  still  loved  her 
very  sincerely,  albeit  the  progress  of  years  and  the 
change  in  our  mutual  relations  had  modified  the  char- 
acter of  my  affection. 

She  was  not  well  this  winter,  even  for  her.  The 
chronic  invalidism  that  fell  into  the  lot  of  seven  out  of 
ten  Southern  gentlewomen  at  that  date  had  been  ac- 
cepted by  her  as  her  earthly  portion  after  the  birth  of 
her  first  child.  She  had  three  sturdy  boys  now,  the 
youngest  being  four  years  old.  Uncle  Archie  would 
not  bring  any  of  them  with  her  to  town. 

"She  was  worn  out,"  he  said,  "and  needed  rest. 
Nothing  else  would  set  her  up  so  soon  as  a  real  holi- 
day." 

He  had  a  private  talk  with  me  the  night  before  he 
went  back,  alone,  to  Summerfield,  coming  for  this  pur- 
pose up  to  my  room  where  I  was  rocking  my  baby  to 
sleep.  It  was  like  the  old  days  of  our  intimate  com- 
panionship to  see  him  in  an  easy-chair  I  had  brought 
from  "  home,"  chatting  in  the  kind,  grave  voice  which 
was  always  musical  to  my  ears.  First,  he  listened  in- 
vitingly to  my  little  tale  of  my  domestic  affairs,  spoke 
affectionately  of  Wickham  and  our  two  children  (we  had 
named  our  boy  "  Archibald  Read"),  commended  my 
housekeeping  and  admired  our  house. 

"  There  is  no  other  life  like  that  of  a  happy,  united 


380  JUDITH: 

family,"  he  said.  "You  do  think  that,  all  things  con- 
sidered, it  is  well  for  a  woman  to  marry — don't  you  ?" 

"  If  she  loves  and  is  beloved  by  a  good  man,  she  can 
do  nothing  wiser,"  answered  I  readily. 

He  did  not  speak  again  at  once,  yet  hardly  seemed, 
I  thought,  to  be  pondering  my  reply. 

"  I  have  had  compunctions  on  the  subject,"  he  began, 
slowly,  not  looking  at  me.  "  Virginia  has  become  so 
delicate,  and  the  cares  of  the  house  since  Mother's  and 
Aunt  Betsey's  deaths  have  seemed  to  weigh  so  heavily 
upon  her.  Maria  does  her  best  to  help  the  poor  little 
thing,  but  there  can  be  only  one  mistress,  you  know, 
and  there  is  no  such  thing  as  evading  the  responsibili- 
ties of  a  mother.  It  is  not  surprising,  I  say  to  myself, 
when  I  see  how  much  devolves  upon  my  wife,  that  she 
should  flag  under  the  weight  and  grow  thin,  pale  and 
nervous.  It  is  hard  to  forgive  myself  for  taking  her 
from  a  home  and  life  where  she  had  nothing  to  do  but 
look  pretty  and  be  happy  all  day  long." 

"  If  she  had  remained  there,  by  this  time  she  would 
have  been  an  old  maid,  an  orphan  and  homeless,  unless 
one  of  her  brothers  had  taken  her  into  his  family,"  re- 
marked I,  sententiously. 

"  Very  true  !  It  is  a  comfort  to  remind  myself  of 
that.  She  has  her  children,  too.  They  will  be  a  great 
solace  to  her  in  her  declining  years." 

"If  each  of  them  grows  up  to  be  as  good  a  man  as 
his  father,  their  mother  will  be  blessed  among  women  1" 
said  I,  in  loving  heat. 

He  looked  pained,  not  gratified,  and  stirred  uneasily 
in  his  chair. 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,  Judith !"  dryly,  and 
shortly.  "  I  meant,  God  knows  !  to  make  her  happjr. 
I  haven't  been  able  to  do  it  /" 

He  got  up  and  walked  about  the  room ;  fingered  the 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          381 

ornaments  on  mantel  and  bureau  nervously,  and  when 
he  took  his  stand  on  the  rug  near  me,  held  a  cologne- 
flask  in  his  hand  and  seemed  intent  upon  fitting  in  and 
pulling  out  the  glass  stopper  while  we  talked.  His  lips 
were  compressed,  the  vein  between  the  brows  was  dark 
and  full. 

"  If  you  cannot  make  a  woman  content  and  grateful 
with  her  share  of  wedded  bliss  no  mortal  man  ought  to 
attempt  the  task,  Uncle  Archie  !"  I  found  voice  to  de- 
clare. 

"  That  is  the  pith  of  my  doubt,  child  ! — whether  any 
man  ever  ought  to  ask  a  woman  to  marry  him.  She 
gives  up  everything — he  nothing  !  Nor  can  he,  with  the 
kindest,  most  loving  intentions,  understand  her  fully. 
Our  sensibilities  and  perceptions  are,  like  our  fingers, 
all  thumbs,  when  we  undertake  to  handle  such  exqui- 
site fibres  as  women's  feelings  and  fancies.  For  in- 
stance, I  almost  killed  Virginia  once  by  asking  her 
jokingly,  if  her  father  hadn't  over-persuaded  her  into 
marrying  me.  I  told  her  that  he  was  mightily  pleased 
with  poor  old  Captain  Macon's  flattery  of  me  on  the 
day  of  the  Whig  rally  in  our  county;  that  he  had 
lively  hopes  of  me  as  a  citizen  and  politician,  and 
worked  her  up  to  the  point  of  saying  '  Yes '  when  I 
asked  her  for  the  second  time  to  marry  me.  I  did  not 
dream  what  a  rough  jest  it  was  until  she  burst  into 
tears  and  left  the  room.  I  am  afraid  sometimes  that  I 
was  selfish  in  hurrying  on  the  marriage.  I  did  not 
mean  ever  to  name  the  subject  to  her  again,  but  she 
was  so  beautiful,  so  gentle  and  winning  when  I  saw 
her  that  November  week,  that  I  forgot  everything  ex- 
cept how  dearly  and  how  long  I  had  loved  her.  Her 
father  agreed  with  me  that  there  was  no  propriety  in 
waiting  for  months  of  engagement  to  make  us  better 
acquainted,  and  she  offered  no  objection." 


382  JUDITH: 

"My  dear  uncle  !  why  should  you  torment  yourself 
by  useless,  morbid  regrets  ?  Any  woman  in  the  land 
ought  to  esteem  herself  fortunate  in  getting  such  a  hus- 
band as  yourself.  Sister  has  told  me  more  than  once 
how  unutterably  good  you  are  to  her ;  that  you  have 
fewer  faults  and  more  virtues  than  any  other  person 
she  ever  knew.  I  wish  you  could  hear  her  praise  you. 
Don't  mind  her  turns  of  low  spirits  and  the  quiet  ways 
into  which  she  has  fallen  since  your  marriage.  Many 
women  settle  down  naturally,  as  wives  and  mothers, 
into  that  style  of  speech  and  manner.  Indeed,  the  ex- 
ceptions are  when  they  do  not  The  condition  of  her 
health  accounts  for  much,  too.  I  hope  great  things 
from  Dr.  Warner's  treatment.  We  will  send  her  home 
at  the  end  of  six  weeks  so  rosy  and  plump  that  you  will 
hardly  recognize  her." 

I  watched  my  sister-in-law  narrowly  while  she  re- 
mained with  us.  "  Settled  down  "  was  the  fittest  word 
that  I  could  have  used  in  this  connection.  In  her  dress 
she  was  scrupulously  neat  and  undeniably  old-fashioned. 
Her  silks  were  heavy,  her  linen  and  laces  fine  and  abun- 
dant, but  in  style  everything  was  several  seasons  old. 

"  What  difference  does  it  make  ?"  she  asked,  when  I 
suggested  alterations  and  modernizing.  "So  long  as 
they  are  of  good  material,  whole  and  clean,  they  satisfy 
me.  Mr.  Bead's  tastes  are  simplicity  itself.  He  would 
not  notice  if  I  wore  my  great-grandmother's  clothes 
upside-down  and  wrong-side-out,  provided  my  hair  was 
smooth  and  I  had  a  clean  collar  on.  He  never  knows 
what  I  wear." 

"Never  criticises  it  perhaps.  Whatever  you  do  is 
right  in  his  eyes.  Every  man  is  better  pleased  to  have 
his  wife  '  keep  herself  up  '  and  study  to  look  young  and 
pretty  as  long  as  she  can.  If  you  grow  old  fast,  so  w1] 
he  I" 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         383 

"  He  was  a  hundred  and  fifty  when  I  married  him  !" 
Then,  catching  herself  up  quickly :  "In  wisdom  and 
goodness  and  all  that,  I  mean.  Sometimes  I  am  wicked 
enough  to  wish  that  he  were  not  so  tiresomely  perfect. 
Do  you  know,  Judith,  I  think  my  diseased  nerves  affect 
the  balance  of  my  mind  ?" 

This  I  would  not  let  her  dwell  upon  nor  myself  admit 
it.  She  was  not  strong,  she  was  ennuyee,  and  in  conse- 
quence unreasonable.  At  home  she  had  too  much  lei- 
sure and  opportunity  for  introspection.  A  wholesome 
waking-up  was  what  she  needed.  I  forced  her  to  walk 
and  drive  and  to  shop  with  me,  whether  she  felt  like  it 
or  not,  and  fairly  badgered  her  into  having  her  ward- 
robe made  over  and  replenished.  Her  acquiescence  in 
whatever  I  insisted  upon  was  very  graceful.  She 
smiled  sometimes  in  quiet  amusement  at  my  determina- 
tion to  "  furbish  her  up,"  as  she  called  it,  but  offered  no 
active  opposition.  Activity  had  little  place  in  her  ex- 
istence now.  She  liked  to  please  other  people.  She 
liked  her  friends,  liked  her  husband  and  liked  her 
children.  An  amiable,  kind-hearted  woman  whom 
everybody  liked  in  return,  she  was  yet  irremediably 
commonplace.  Her  sprightliness  had  been  an  element 
of  youth,  and,  like  youth,  was  not  to  be  recalled.  She 
must  have  hemstitched  scores  of  yards  of  ruffling 
during  her  visit.  If  I  had  not  dragged  her  up  from  her 
rocking-chair  by  moral  and  sometimes  by  physical  force, 
she  would  have  sat  there  all  day,  putting  her  needle  in 
and  out  so  many  threads  apart  and  so  many  times  per 
minute,  the  material  on  which  she  wrought  being  cob- 
webby linen  cambric. 

"  For  what  ?"  asked  I  once,  impatiently. 

She  looked,  up,  mildly  bewildered. 

"Those  everlasting  lengths  of  hemstitched  muslin  I 
What  can  you  mean  to  do  with  them  all  ?" 


384  JUDITH: 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  exactly  !  It 's  always  convenient 
to  have  them  on  hand,  you  know." 

In  her  husband's  sight  she  was  still  passing  fair.  My 
vision  beheld  reluctantly  a  small,  sallow  woman,  sal- 
lowest  on  the  hollowed  cheeks  where  the  roses  had 
bloomed,  with  paled  blue  eyes  and  thinned  red-gold 
hair.  A  touch  of  sharpness  in  nose,  chin  or  voice 
would  have  lent  a  viragoish  cast  to  the  faded  picture. 
In  default  of  this,  it  was  insipid. 

All  this  I  was  reviewing  on  the  morning  of  her  de- 
parture. Wickham  escorted  her  home,  and  the  stage 
had  called  for  them  at  seven  o'clock.  I  was  seated  com- 
fortably at  my  sewing  by  nine,  my  boy  rolling  on  the 
floor  in  the  spring  sunshine,  while  I  summed  up  the  re- 
sult of  my  character  study : 

"  She  never  had  much  force  of  will.  Her  heart  is  af- 
fectionate but  shallow.  "When  the  first  horror  of  the 
discovery  made  on  the  night  Harry  died  was  over,  she 
grew  to  love  her  husband — because  he  was  her  husband 
— as  well  as  she  would  have  loved  the  man  of  her  choice 
had  she  wedded  him.  There  is  a  sort  of  lymph  in  such 
natures  that  cures  heart-hurt  rapidly,  as  a  cut  tongue  is 
soon  healed  by  the  moisture  of  the  mouth.  It  is  well 
that  women  of  her  type  are  largely  in  the  majority, 
otherwise  the  world  would  be  dark  with  the  shadow  of 
unwritten  tragedies." 

Pluming  myself  somewhat  upon  the  apt  illustration, 
in  complacent  consciousness  of  my  happier  and  fuller 
life,  I  glanced  up  at  the  entrance  of  the  chambermaid, 
whose  business  it  was  to  set  the  guest-chamber  to 
rights.  She  had  found  a  parcel  "under  Miss  Yir- 
ginny's  piller." 

"She  done  forgit  it,  I  reckon.  I  been  see  it  thar 
three  other  mornin's  when  I  make  her  Lade  "  (bed),  "an7 
lef  it  back  agin." 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          385 

Something  warned  me  to  take  it  without  comment, 
also,  not  to  unwrap  the  parcel  until  the  woman  had 
gone  out.  It  was  a  miniature,  rolled  up  in  a  white  silk 
handkerchief.  The  picture  was  painted  on  ivory  and 
set  in  a  narrow  gold  rim.  The  artist  had  caught  the 
best  expression  of  the  original,  the  half-humorous,  half- 
loving  glance  I  had  seen  a  thousand  times  flash  from 
the  hazel  eyes.  The  handkerchief  was  yellow  with 
time,  and  marked  in  one  corner  in  well-known  charac- 
ters—" J.  H.  BRADLEY." 

My  husband  brought  me  a  sealed  note  from  his  sister 
when  he  returned  from  the  country  : 

"I  left  a  small  bundle  under  my  pillow  Please  let 
nobody  see  it  but  yourself,  and  keep  it  until  you  can  re- 
store it  to  me  in  person.  It  was  given  to  me  many  years 
ago,  and  I  have  had  no  opportunity  to  send  it  back  to 
the  donor.  I  trust  you,  Judith,  and  you  must  trust  me 
far  enough  to  believe  that  no  wrong  is  done  to  ANY- 
ONE by  my  preservation  of  this  memento  of  a  once 
dear  friend.  I  know  appearances  are  against  me,  but 
indeed,  my  dear  sister,  I  am  not  a  wicked  although  an 
unhappy  woman." 

Surprises  and  denouements  advance  in  squads.  If 
they  appear  singly  they  are  always  "strays" — sporadic 
cases. 

About  the  middle  of  March  I  went,  accompanied  by 
nurse  and  baby,  down  the  river  to  visit  a  Norfolk  friend. 
Wickham  drove  with  us  to  the  pretty  steamer,  the  "Cur- 
tis Peck,"  then  new  and,  popular;  secured  a  state-room 
for  us,  established  me  in  a  shaded  seat  on  the  forward 
deck,  and  stayed  by  me  until  the  signal  was  given  for 
throwing  off  the  rope.  The  day  was  rarely  perfect,  the 
scene  enchanting.  I  never  look  upon  the  soft  undula- 
tions of  the  banks  rolling  away  from  the  brink  of  the 
to  lose  themselves  in  the  levels  of  the  back  coun- 


386  JUDITH: 

try,  without  recalling  the  lines  dropped,  one  is  tempted 
to  suspect,  by  accident,  into  the  machine-cut,  kiln-dried 
measures  of  "Divine  songs  and  hymns  :" 

"  Sweet  fields  beyond  the  swelling  flood 
Stand  dressed  in  living  green." 

The  green  was  a  glorious  type  of  young  life  on  this 
mid-March  morning,  gladdening  the  heart  with  the  pro- 
mise of  bounteous  wheat  harvests.  Peach  orchards  lay 
like  fallen  clouds  of  rosy  deliciousness  on  the  hillsides, 
apple  trees  offering  the  blending  shades  with  which  the 
pink  fainted  into  the  snow  of  cherry-groves  embowering 
farm-house  and  mansion.  The  rapids  sang  and  leaped 
past  city  and  islands  ;  turbid  waters,  raised  high  by 
spring  floods,  were  a  symphony  in  yellows  in  the  sun- 
shine that,  as  the  forenoon  wore  on,  imparted  a  musing 
languor  to  the  air  and  view,  and  with  it  the  inexplica- 
ble charm  and  beguilement  never  felt  under  Northern 
skies. 

I  was  wrapped  in  dreams  that  might  have  caught 
their  coloring  from  the  blush  of  the  fallen  mists  on  the 
river-slopes,  when  a  respectful  voice  addressed  me  : 

"  Pardon  the  intrusion  !  Am  I  mistaken  in  thinking 
that  I  address  an  old  acquaintance  ?  Is  not  this  Mrs. 
Wickham  Dabney,  formerly  Miss  Judith  Trueheart  and 
my  favorite  pupil  ?" 

I  thought  and  exclaimed  that  I  should  have  known 
him  anywhere.  Prosperity  and  a  sunny  nature  had 
allowed  him  to  mature  without  losing  his  youthfulness. 
His  eyes  were  clear,  his  smile  easy  and  kind.  His  voice 
was  even  more  agreeably  modulated  than  when  his  Vir- 
ginian friends  overlooked  Yankee  provincialisms  and 
twang  in  admiration  of  his  pure  articulation  and  clean 
periods. 

"  I  read  the  notice  of  your  marriage  in  a  stray  Rich- 
mond paper,  some  years  ago,"  he  remarked,  seating 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.         38? 

himself  by  me.  "But  if  nothing  else  had  drawn  my 
attention  to  you,  I  must  have  observed  your  resem- 
blance to  Miss  Maria  Read.  She  is  still  living,  I  hope  ?" 

"Yes,  and  at  Summerfield. " 

"  Has  she  never  married  ?" 

"Never." 

Absurdly  enough,  I  shunned  meeting  his  eye  in  say- 
ing it,  and  felt  awkward,  in  spite  of  common  sense. 

"Somebody  has  been  cheated  out  of  an  excellent 
wife  I  I  have  never  known  a  nobler,  sweeter  woman." 
There  was  no  embarrassment  on  his  side.  "  I  thought 
at  one  time  that  Sidney  Macon  might  win  her." 

"  He  married  Miss  Betty  Archer — in  1836,  I  think. 
Aunt  Maria  is  even  lovelier  than  when  you  knew  her, 
the  guardian  angel  of  a  growing  host  of  nephews  and 
nieces,  adopted  and  real.  Hers  is  a  beautiful,  benefi- 
cent life." 

"It  was  sure  to  be  that  in  any  event.  Has  she 
changed  much  in  appearance  ?" 

"  Not  to  our  eyes.  A  little  paler  perhaps,  and  a  trifle 
more  quiet  in  general  society.  Her  smile  is  sweeter, 
her  eyes  more  benignant  with  every  year  that  gives  her 
more  people  to  comfort  and  to  bless." 

A  child,  scampering  across  the  deck,  tripped  and  fell 
in  front  of  us.  Mr.  Bradley  sprang  forward  to  pick 
him  up,  soothed  his  outcry,  and  delivered  him  with  a 
bow  and  reassuring  word  to  the  mother  when  she  has- 
tened to  the  spot. 

"  I  have  a  youngster  of  my  own  about  that  age,"  he 
said  in  resuming  his  seat.  "  I  sent  a  paper  with  the  an- 
nouncement of  my  marriage  to  Archie  Read.  Did  he 
get  it  ?" 

"Yes,"  again  avoiding  his  eye.  "  I  hope  that  Mrs. 
Bradley  is  well.  Is  she  with  you  ?" 

"  No.    I  left  her  in  Philadelphia  when  I  went  on  to 


888  JUDITH. 

Kichmond  last  Monday.  This  is  a  flying  business 
trip.  I  saw  but  few  old  acquaintances  in  town.  One  I 
could  wish  I  had  never  seen  again  in  this  world  or  the 
next.  I  ought  not  to  be  seriously  affected  by  what  I 
have  heard  within  twenty-four  hours,  but  it  has  left  a 
bad  taste  in  my  mouth.  A  man  can  bear  disappoint- 
ment and  loss  better  than  the  knowledge  that  he  has 
been  tricked  out  of  something  he  once  possessed  or  be- 
lieved was  his." 

He  hesitated,  and  I  looked  the  inquiry  I  did  not  know 
how  to  frame  into  language. 

He  tried  to  laugh,  but  his  face  flushed  uneasily. 

"I  saw  Mr.  Allen — Ned  Allen — at  the  Exchange 
Hotel  yesterday  afternoon." 

"  He  has  gone  down  hill  fast  of  late,"  said  I,  still  in 
the  dark.  "  He  has  hardly  drawn  a  sober  breath  in  five 
years." 

"  He  was  drunk,  very  drunk,  when  I  met  him  on  the 
street  night  before  last,  and  hardly  more  sober  yester- 
day when  he  called  at  my  room,  by  his  own  appoint- 
ment, but  in  the  maudlin-repentant  stage.  He  cried 
like  a  baby,  while  he  tried  to  confess  '  the  irreparable 
wrong  he  had  done  me,  an  innocent,  inoffensive  citizen 
and  a  perfect  gentleman,  sir  !'  An  injury  that  had  lain 
on  his  conscience  like  a  fifty-pound  weight  ever  since  he 
periled  his  soul's  salvation  for  the  sake  of  a  flirt.  '  Kan 
the  risk  of  the  penitentiary,  sir ! — and  for  what  ?  To 
see  myself  whistled  down  the  wind,  a  prey  to  fortune, 
and  the  woman  I  adored  the  bride  of  another  I  I 
might  have  saved  my  soul  this  fifty-pound  weight  of 
guilt,  Mr.  Bradley,  and  let  her  marry  you.  This  is  the 
dark  secret  of  my  life,  sir — the  fatal  step  in  my  career  I' 
After  this  preamble,  he  informed  me  in  a  tragic  whis- 
per that  he  would  confide  the  whole  mystery  to  my 
keeping,  make  a  clean  breast  of  it,  and  put  himself, 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLD  VIRGINIA.          389 

soul  and  body,  at  my  mercy  if  I  would  lend  him  five 
dollars  fora  couple  of  days." 

"  Mr.  Bradley  I    What  did  he  mean  ?" 

I  was  almost  as  much  shocked  by  the  levity  with 
which  my  former  tutor  rattled  off  his  mimicry  of  the 
tipsy  confession  as  by  the  hinted  revelation. 

"  That  I  cannot  undertake  to  decide  !  He  said  that 
he  had,  through  a  paid  tool  in  the  post-office,  inter- 
cepted Miss  Dabney -s  letters  to  me,  and  mine  to  her. 
Perhaps  you  did  not  know — you  were  very  young  then 
— probably  you  have  never  heard  that  when  I  left  Rich' 
moud  in  1832  I  was  engaged  to  be  married  to  her  ?" 

"  I  have  surmised  as  much." 

"  I  was  to  write  to  her  father  asking  his  sanction  of 
the  contract,  so  soon  as  she  gave  me  permission  to  do 
so.  I  had  not  a  word  in  answer  to  six  or  eight  letters. 
Did  she  ever  talk  to  you  of  the  affair  ?" 

"Never  I" 

I  ventured  few  words  at  a  time  and  chose  these 
warily.  The  lava-crust  of  thirteen  years  was  cracking 
under  my  feet.  I  kept  two  things  steadily  before  my 
reeling  vision.  Virginia  Dabney  was  my  uncle's  wife. 
Mr.  Bradley  was  a  married  man.  Nothing  but  evil 
could  come  from  the  admission  into  this  tragedy  of  the 
evidence  I  held.  If  he  waited  for  elucidation  of  the 
mystery  from  me  he  would  live  and  die  without  it.  Be- 
tween me  and  the  fair  panorama  of  waving  grain-fields 
and  blossom-laden  orchards  arose  the  figure  that  had 
stood  on  my  hearth  that  Sunday  night  in  February ; 
the  visage  lined  by  thought  and  care,  the  frosted  hair, 
the  sad,  patient,  loving  eyes  making  unutterably  piteous 
the  quietly-spoken  regret : 

"  I  meant — God  knows — to  make  her  happy.  I  have 
not  been  able  to  do  it  I" 

Here  was  the  cause  of  his  failure  !    This  trim  and 


390  JUDITH. 

successful  Philadelphia  lawyer,  with  his  flippant  trav- 
esty of  the  gravest  aspects  of  the  "affair  !"  Had  the 
Author  of  beauty  and  of  love— had  the  God  of  the 
Covenant  decreed  that  the  life  of  the  nobler  man  should 
be  a  disappointment — an  abortion — and  that  of  his  rival 
round  and  ripe  with  fullness  of  satisfaction  ? 

Mr.  Bradley  cast  a  keen  glance  at  my  countenance, 
laughed  slightly  and  in  a  well-bred  way,  and  fell  to 
prodding  a  crack  in  the  deck-floor  with  the  ferrule  of  a 
natty  silk  umbrella. 

"  There  is  a  homely  saying  that  there  is  no  use  crying 
over  spilt  milk.  Now  that  the  ache  is  dead  I  can  con- 
fess calmly  what  a  precious  cup  of  cream  that  was 
which  was  knocked  over  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  eigh- 
teen hundred  and  thirty-two.  I  shiver  in  recollecting 
how  my  heart  sickened  and  fainted  with  expecting  let- 
ters that  never  came  ;  how  I  poured  love  and  agony  and 
entreaty  into  those  I  wrote.  After  my  meeting  with 
Harry  Macon,  hope  revived.  She  promised  to  sift  the 
matter  to  the  bottom  and  send  me  tidings.  I  was  sure 
she  would  keep  her  word.  Captain  Macon's  letter  came 
instead.  In  Sidney's  communication,  written  six  months 
later,  informing  me  of  the  brave  old  soldier's  death,  he 
said  that  his  father  seldom  touched  pen  afterward,  but 
he  exerted  himself  to  give  me  a  full  account  of  the  poor 
girl's  return  and  of  her  decease.  '  She  breathed  her 
last,'  he  stated,  '  in  the  arms  of  that  angel  of  womanly 
mercy  and  love,  Miss  Maria  Read.'  (Isn't  that  touch 
characteristic  ?)  In  this  letter  occurred  this  paragraph : 
'  My  peerless  young  friend,  Archibald  Bead,  has  acted 
a  more  than  filial  part  to  me  throughout  this,  the  most 
calamitous  year  in  my  life  history.  His  hand  closed  my 
Harriet's  eyes.  His  wife — the  bride  of  less  than  a  week, 
sweet  Virginia  Dabney,  whom  you  must  remember  well 
— laid  flowers  on  my  child's  heart  just  before  the  coffin- 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  OLL>  VIRGINIA.          391 

lid  shut  out  the  beloved  face  from  our  eyes  for  all 
time. ' 

"  I  don't  like  to  reflect,  even  now,  on  what  that  last 
sentence  was  to  me  !" 

He  shook  his  head  restively — the  gesture  with  which 
one  rids  himself  of  a  buzzing  gad-fly. 

"  It  is  worse  than  useless  to  recall  it,"  returned  I,  in 
a  smothered  voice. 

"  You  are  right.  Wise  people  let  the  dead  past  bury 
its  dead.  It  is  best  as  it  is.  It  was  all  ordered  wisely, 
although  I  wouldn't  believe  it  then.  I  am  married  to  a 
woman  who  suits  me  a  thousand  times  better  than 
pretty  Virginia  Dabney  would  have  done,  and  she  is 
just  the  wife  for  my  old  friend  Archie.  I  can  say  from 
the  unveiled  depths  of  my  soul, '  I  am  glad  he  has  her  !' 
It  was  that  vile  Allen's  story  tharf;  set  me  to  thinking  of 
my  callow  days,  and  how  horribly  hurt  I  believed  my- 
self to  be  for  months  after  the  old  Captain's  letter  con- 
vinced me  that  it  had  been  '  out  of  sight,  out  of  mind  ' 
with  my  Southern  sweetheart.  Curious,  isn't  it  ?  that 
the  thought  which  was  the  sharpest  thorn  then  is  most 
consoling  to  me  now — namely,  that  I  suffered  longer  and 
more  bitterly  from  our  separation  and  the  unexplained 
alienation  than  she  did  ;  that  she  forgot  me,  or  was  com- 
forted for  my  loss  in  less  than  half  a  year,  while  it  took 
me  a  whole  twelvemonth  to  pull  myself  into  shape 
again." 

I  did  not  set  him  right. 

[THE  END.] 


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